Gentle the Rage
by redroseofblue
Summary: Step into the minds of one of the most feared killers in all of Westeros, and the young woman who prayed for the Mother to "gentle the rage inside him" as they embark on the dangerous journey north to bring Sansa home. From the author of I Am No Knight comes a first-person perspective of the Battle of the Blackwater escape, revisiting an oft retold story from a fresh angle. SanSan.
1. Chapter 1

**-Author's Note-**

 **Hello readers, thank you for checking this out. If you haven't already seen my other fanfic, it's also a Sansan and takes place after season 7 at Winterfell. It is completed, and it's also pretty detailed about the final season, what happens in the realm, etc. It's called** ** _I Am No Knight._ This story is first person perspective and will focus more on the love story between Sandor and Sansa.**

 **Please follow, review, and favorite!**

 **-Sandor-**

I always hated that shit city, but there was never a time I loathed it more than that night. The Blackwater was on fire, and I fucking hate fire. I realized in that moment—when my men were covered in green flame and Stannis' soldiers kept coming—that it didn't matter anymore. The battle was lost, but more than that, I was just fucking done. Done being the King's dog, done fighting for people I fucking hated, done being surrounded by wildfire. I wanted peace—peace just for a moment at least, to get away from everything. I wanted wine. I wanted her.

Why did it always come back to her? I'd tried everything to get that pretty little Stark girl out of my head day after day, night after night, yet it always came back to her. When they beat her I hated myself for doing nothing, I hated the way her cries seemed to tear me in two. I was supposed to be a killer, supposed to not give a shit about anyone or anything, yet that damn redhead always had me feeling things.

It's not that I'd never had feelings before her, but I'd always buried them, always pushed them away to a darkened part of my soul. But I couldn't do that with her. Every time I was in her presence I felt things—hatred, attraction, anger, self-loathing—feelings that I couldn't place or fully understand, and it frustrated me. Yet here I was again, going back to her.

I couldn't say why I'd gone to her room after telling off the king. It's the only place I wanted to be, and for the first time in my life I was taking what I wanted. I had snatched wine from the kitchens and some hastily packed food for the journey, but I had to see her before I left—had to see if she'd come with me. It was a longshot, I knew. The girl hated me. She hated my scars, hated how harsh I was around her. A part of me always wanted to be nice to her, to speak softly and draw a smile out of her, but in the moment I'd always revert to my habits. I was gruff and rude and cruel—that had always been my way since my brother had fucked my life over—it's what got me through everything. Until her.

When I entered her chambers, her scent was overwhelming, and I wanted nothing more than to drown in it. Sansa Stark was intoxicating, and though I wouldn't have admitted it to myself then, I loved how I felt when I thought of her. It was the only time I came close to being happy. I pushed away the thoughts of what she would do when she found me there—probably scream and cry. Why wouldn't she? I was the king's dog, a hideous, scarred beast who served her enemies.

Still, I couldn't suppress the hope that maybe—maybe I could convince her to join me. She wanted to leave after all, I told myself. Of course, she would hide behind her words, her perfect words that were her only armor, but I knew she didn't mean them. I knew she hated that cunt boy king as much as I did—maybe even more. He'd taken her father's head, then paraded it in front of her. He'd beaten her for nothing, taunted her. Surely she hated him as well—at least, I convinced myself as much when I curled up there in her room on the floor, waiting. I convinced myself that she would at least hear me out and hoped beyond anything that she'd be willing to leave with me.

 **~Sansa~**

I couldn't remember feeling such terror before that night. I'd been frightened often before then—worried about beatings or whether my family were still alive—but this was different. This fear seemed to crawl under my skin and shake me to my core. I had given up trying to settle my stomach since we'd first learned that Stannis was approaching, but once the Queen fled Maegor's Holdfast, a new fear had gripped hold of me. We were lost. We would be raped and killed, surely. The thought of rape—the thought of that horrible time in the streets of the city when those men had nearly taken me—it was awful and I was shaking from head to toe. When Shae told me to go to my room, I feared that I'd faint right there. The only thing that gave me strength were the prayers I mumbled to myself as I ran—surely the gods would hear me. Surely they cared—if no one else in the whole world cared, surely the gods still did…

I never realized just how far away my chambers were from the holdfast until that moment. I felt certain I'd be attacked around every bend, every time I entered a new hall or passageway, I was sure I would be seen by an enemy. They'd corner me, sneering, and rip my clothes off, hitting me, hurting me—unless, he saved me again. The Hound.

I didn't know why he'd saved me that time in the streets. I'd supposed the Queen had commanded it since I was a valuable hostage, but still his face had been—different. There had been something else there, I was certain. I had overheard Lord Tyrion thanking him and the Hound had responded by saying, "I didn't do it for you." Gods, how I'd puzzled over that sentence after that. Did he mean that he did it for me? No, surely not. I was just a stupid girl to him. Still, I'd prayed for him earlier tonight, to the Mother. _"Save him if you can, and gentle the rage inside him."_

When I reached my chambers, I breathed a sigh of relief—I had been so certain I wouldn't make it there safely. I closed the door behind me and for the first time that night, the sights and sounds of the battle below reached my ears. The screams of terror, the wildfire—it was dreadful and I felt so alone. The doll my father had given me was lying on the dresser and I snatched it up, inhaling the familiar smell and the sense of comfort that it gave me in that moment to have something from him—to feel that he was there with me, in my heart and my memory.

Then I heard his voice. The Hound was there, in my room! I couldn't even say what he'd asked, I just knew he'd startled the life out of me and I was frightened. "What are you doing here?" I asked him, breathlessly.

"Not here for long," he responded. "I'm going."

I was confused. Where could he possibly be going? So I asked him, and he replied, "Someplace that isn't burning."

Yes, I remembered then that he hated fire. Of course he hated it, his brother had brutalized him with it. He continued from his position in the darkness, crouched in a corner in my room. He said that he might go north. North!

"What about the king?" I asked, foolishly. Of course he wouldn't have cared about the king. I didn't care about the king either, but I _was_ afraid of him.

"He can die just fine on his own."

Did this mean that he was done—for good—with the Lannisters? With my captors—that horrid family who lied and schemed and were crueler than I ever thought anyone could be? But then, why was he here, in my room?

It was like he heard my thoughts, for in the next moment he answered them. "I can take you with me, take you to Winterfell," he said. My heart did a queer little flip in that second, but I couldn't have said exactly why. Was I afraid of the prospect? Excited? I wasn't sure, but he continued.

"I'll keep you safe."

Yes, he would keep me safe. I believed that, though he had broken into my room, a place he should never have been while alone with me. I believed him even as he stood and approached me, edging me toward the wall. I clutched my doll closer, feeling absurd—like the child that I knew he saw me as.

"Do you want to go home?"

Gods, yes! I wanted to go home more than anything! But, no—not like this—it wasn't right. He drew closer to me and all I could think of was what my mother would say if I left that city alone with a man like him. It was foolish, I know, but I couldn't help thinking it at the time. It seemed the most important thing in that moment.

"I'll be safe here," I lied. "Stannis won't hurt me."

Why had I said that? I had no idea what Stannis would do to me. It was just more of my pretty words, the words I repeated to myself and others to protect me from further harm, like the little bird that he always called me.

"Look at me!"

He barked the words out, so gruff and coarse, and I was frightened of him in that moment, just like I used to be. He was covered in blood and his eyes were so—intense. He made me feel things that I couldn't explain, but I was uncomfortable. His voice gave me thrills and I couldn't decide if they were pleasant or unpleasant ones. I only knew that they stirred inside of me strangely.

He said that Stannis is a killer, that everyone is a killer, and that even my sons would be killers. I knew he was right, of course, but he said it so plainly, so ugly. They wouldn't want to kill, my sons. Even my family, they only killed because it was their duty. At least, that's what gave me comfort to believe, so that's what I told myself.

"The world is built by killers. So you better get used to looking at them."

Suddenly I understood. He wanted me to look at him. Not because he was a killer, or because he thought I was afraid—he wanted me to see him for a person, _not_ as a killer. To see past the scars that marred one half of his face to the man beyond them. I can't say how I knew that, it was just the clearest thing to me in that instant. He wanted to know if I saw beyond his words, beyond his gruff appearance, and I did, and I knew.

"You won't hurt me," I said, after that truth had dawned on me.

But why wouldn't he hurt me? What was it that made him different—or that made me different to him? I didn't know, but I realized with some discomfort that I wanted to.

"No, little bird, I won't hurt you."

His words twisted inside me and my breath hitched in the moment, overthinking what he meant by them. He had spoken with such kindness—gentler than I'd ever seen him be. The man looking down on me with sweat and blood covering his face was so full of sorrow when he spoke those words, as if I'd broken his heart. I didn't know what I'd done, but it must have been something wrong because he left my room after that.

And suddenly I realized that I didn't want him to leave! That thought surprised me—even scared me. I had thought for certain that I wanted him gone, but when he actually left my stomach jolted terribly and I felt somehow—empty. Why had I let him go? He'd walked out of my world and I'd done nothing! He would be leaving the city and I'd never see him again, never be able to look for him when Joffrey and his Kingsguard frightened me or beat me.

I'd been a fool and I knew it.

 **-Sandor-**

Of course I would never have hurt her. I just wanted her to understand that she wouldn't be any safer with Stannis than she was with Joffrey, but she was so damned blinded by her courtesies, by her ridiculous idea of the world that she actually believed he'd keep her safe. I would keep her safe—I was probably the only man in King's Landing who would. _Why_ I would, was something that I still couldn't admit to myself. I told myself that it was because I was better than those men, because even though they were knights and I was just a dog, I could care for a maiden properly, while all they could do was hurt her. But it was more than that, and the knowledge made me uncomfortable.

Still, I'd failed to convince her, and I had nothing left. I'd be leaving the city alone. I'd been alone my whole life so what would it matter to be alone again? I told myself that the despair was fatigue, that the pain in my heart was just nerves. My life had been one big disappointment, what was one more?

"Ser!"

It was a heightened whisper, sounding determined from somewhere behind me, but I knew that voice. I turned around to see her crouching along the passage, her back against the wall, clenching a small sack in her little white hands.

I was dumbstruck. For a moment I was entirely at a loss for words, but I wouldn't let her see how she unraveled me. I marched back to where she crouched and grabbed her arm, pulling her toward me roughly.

"You're coming then?" Damned wine always made me courser than I meant to be.

"Y-yes," she faltered, still having trouble looking at me. I gritted my teeth. She'd have to bloody well get used to it if she was going to be spending every day and night with me on the journey north. Shit, that thought excited me far more than it should have.

"Then stay close, girl, and do as I say!" I rasped at her. I'd probably frightened her half to death, but the girl had better grow some thick skin if she wanted to survive this. We would both end up on the Lannister's most wanted list for certain—if we managed to get out of the city alive. I dragged her along behind me toward the stables. To my surprise she didn't complain, and managed to keep up well enough.

Just as I thought they would be, the stables were deserted. I found my destrier, Stranger, and began saddling him quickly. She was looking at me as I worked, as if she desperately wanted to ask me something, but was too frightened.

"What is it, girl?"

She looked about her nervously, then fixed her gaze back on me. "Will—will we need to ride together? Or shall I prepare my own mount?"

Again, I was surprised. "Do you ride?"

She made a face as if it were a stupid question. "Of—of course I ride you rode south with me from Winterfell."

Shit, that's right. Not like it'd be easy for me to remember that, she'd spent as much time as possible in the wheelhouse being pretty. But, now I thought of it, I did remember her riding more than once. Still, if she rode her own horse, what would keep her from riding off the first chance she got?

"I'm not planning on running off on my own, if that's what you're thinking—I'm coming with you of my own accord." She moved into the next stall and began sweet-talking the mare, before eyeing me again. "I know I wouldn't survive the Kingsroad without you."

I shrugged and continued with Stranger, though I was more pleased than I let on. It seemed she wasn't as stupid as she sometimes acted in that fucking keep. Bloody hells, she even knew how to saddle the damned thing. I suppose her father had ensured his children knew how to do such things on their own—he was a practical man, even if he had been a self-righteous prick who got himself killed for honor. I winced at my own mental description of him, remembering how he'd swallowed his pride at the end and lied for his children's sake, for all the good it had done him. It wasn't his fault that Joffrey was a cunt.

I glanced at Sansa again as she worked, her delicate, feminine hands easily managing the straps and saddle, before tying her pack to it.

"Do you need help to—" I was going to say mount, just as she did so. She just looked at me prettily (if not smugly) from her position in the saddle and shook her head. This Sansa was almost a stranger to me—certainly not the frightened, stammering girl that walked timidly with her head down along the halls of the Red Keep. As curious as I was to discover more, there would be time for that later.

I swung up into the saddle and fixed her in a serious glare. "Stay close." I saw that she'd had the foresight to bring a hooded cloak, which she wore now. "Good, keep that hair covered. I'll keep you safe, but you have to do whatever I say, do you understand?" I was harsh again, but I needed her to comprehend the seriousness of what we were doing.

She nodded, the fear apparent in her eyes, but she wasn't crying or doing anything stupid. Good, maybe we'd actually get out of this alive. I spurred Stranger on and the hoofbeats of her mare sounded in my ears directly behind me. We plunged ahead into the darkness toward the gate that I knew was minimally guarded, if not altogether deserted by now. The city shrunk away behind us, enshrouded in an emerald glow of flaming death.


	2. Chapter 2

**~Sansa~**

I wasn't as frightened as I thought I'd be. We were running from the king—deserting the battle. I was a fugitive—the daughter of a traitor, the sister of the man warring with the crown, and would probably end up with my head on a spike if we were caught. Still, after the initial fear which had gripped me in the first moments of our departure, I only felt alive and focused. Nervous, yes, but while in the flight there was no time for fear. We only had to flee.

We. It was strange to think of the Hound and I as a team, united in a common hatred of the Lannisters, and a common goal—to get as far away from the capital as possible. It was even more strange to think of what I'd done—agreeing to leave the city alone with a man like him. Yet somehow, I felt more at ease with that decision than I had felt every day since my father was arrested. This was my choice—I was finally doing something for myself, something that could either win me freedom, or cost me my life, but at least I had the choice. It made me feel alive again, and as if that life was worth living.

Yet as I watched him riding ahead of me, huge and menacing on that beast of his, I couldn't help but entertain a tiny doubt of my decision. Could I really be safe with him? He'd said he wouldn't hurt me and I'd believed him in that moment, but perhaps he was subdued in the capital—cowed into good behavior by the fear of punishment. Out there, in the wilderness, what would prevent the animal in him from revealing itself? What would prevent him from taking anything and everything he wanted from me, whatever that might be? The thought sent a chill down my spine and I clenched the reins tighter in my hands, gritting my teeth. There was nothing to be done about it now. I had thrown the dice and I must live with my choice—I could only hope I'd be better off with him than I was with Joffrey. It was hard to even imagine how anything _couldn't_ be better than Joffrey.

We reached the small, side gate without incident. Indeed, the chaos of the battle rendered us almost invisible to anyone who should happen to see us. Why would they notice or question two extra mounted persons in the midst of a fight for their lives? The guards, as the Imp had predicted, had deserted at the first sign of danger. The gate was completely unmanned.

The Hound turned to me and signaled that I should watch his back, before he vaulted from his horse and moved to open the gate. I did as I was bid, just as I'd always been taught to do, watching for anyone who might try to give us trouble. When he'd opened the gate enough for us to pass through, he motioned for me to ride out as he went back to grab Strangers bridle.

For one mad second I considered galloping away into the darkness and never looking back. I'd be free. I'd ride on and on to Riverrun or anywhere my family held influence and they would keep me safe. I'd find Robb or Mother, aunt Lysa, grandfather. Someone. I'd be safe.

"Girl," he laid a hand on my shoulder, so gently that I almost didn't feel it at first, though my stomach had turned a somersault when I realized it. I turned to look at him and he actually grinned. It wasn't maniacal or cruel as his grins usually were, either, it could almost have been described as affectionate. "Don't get cold feet on me now, we've come this far."

I nodded and swallowed, not trusting my voice at the moment. Of course I didn't have cold feet. I'd never go back through the gates of that city for the rest of my life. But I also wasn't about to explain the thought I'd been entertaining a moment ago about running away alone. It was stupid anyway, just a random, fleeting hope and I would probably have regretted it within minutes. Out there was all unknown. At least I knew what I was getting with the Hound. Well, I thought I knew anyway.

"Come on," he growled, and dug his heels in. Despite my reservations, I followed.

 **-Sandor-**

We rode hard for most of the night, but never a complaint did I hear from the girl. It was clear on her face—in the moments when I was able to steal a glance—that she was exhausted and in pain, but at least she understood the urgency to put as much distance between us and that city as possible. I was grateful for that. My one concern in asking her to come with me had been in having to ride into the wilderness with a lady and how difficult that might be. So far she was managing well, and I hoped that would continue to be the case.

Still, we couldn't ride forever. The mounts were tired, and the Stark girl was beginning to look as if she'd fall off her horse from fatigue. From the position of the moon it was just a few hours before daybreak. We could chance a bit of rest. We had to.

We'd left the Kingsroad hours ago, tramping through woods and fields at a slower pace so as not to risk injuring the horses, then back to the Kingsroad, then back off. We walked through every stream that we passed, following it for a bit before exiting and doubling back. We had to do everything possible to throw off the scent in case we were pursued. I doubted we would be—at least, if the battle was lost as I supposed it to be, there wasn't much likelihood of it. Still, I didn't want to take the chance. We'd been riding for some time on a small, peasant trail which ran alongside a thicker wood with a stream running through it, and I figured this would be as good a place as any to stop and rest.

I pulled Stranger up abruptly and turned around to speak to the lady. At my sudden movement she blinked and shook her head a bit, as if she'd been in a sleep-deprived trance. She just sat motionless in the saddle and fixed me in a blank stare. Bloody hells, I wish she didn't looked so damned helpless and sweet all the time, like her life was in my hands—even if it was.

"We need to stop for a bit, rest the horses and ourselves." I dismounted as I said it and held her reins. "We'll walk the horses into them woods and find us a spot."

She nodded dismally, clearly too exhausted to bother responding, and winced as she moved off the horse. I offered my hand for the dismount which she took. Her hand was so soft, like some kind of exquisite cloth, and her large, doe eyes looked into mine with a grateful expression, looking serene and delicate in the moonlight. Intoxicating little temptress, she'd be the end of me, I knew it. I handed her reins back to her and grunted at her to follow me.

As we picked our way through the thick growth of the wood, leading the horses behind us, I tried to push away the thoughts of what would happen when we laid down to sleep. It was highly unlikely she'd ever slept out in the wilderness before, and certainly not alone. I didn't want to frighten her by being too close, but it couldn't really be helped. It was too dangerous to not maintain at least a reasonably close proximity to such a helpless (and beautiful) woman. I decided not to dwell on it—I'd let her set the tone. There'd be no fire and it was only a little chilly, no fear of freezing. If she wanted me closer than I planned to be…well, I wasn't about to say no.

I settled on a spot where a fallen tree offered a bit of a feeling of seclusion. The stream which meandered along only a short distance into the wood, following along parallel with the trail we'd been travelling on, was not too far away, but far enough that we would not be seen from anyone who should happen to visit it.

"We'll rest here," I gestured toward the small clearing and she nodded wearily, turning to her horse to begin readying it for the night. We removed the saddles and blankets, and brushed them down as best we could under the circumstances, before hobbling them to a tree. We'd already watered them and ourselves when we crossed the stream minutes ago, but I thought the girl may be hungry, so I offered her a biscuit from the saddlebag. She took it with a barely whispered, "thank you," and ate it quickly. I scarfed one down myself, grateful for something to settle the rumbling in my empty stomach.

"We can eat more when we rise, but there isn't much food. We'll have to go slowly with it until we can get more." I felt guilty, as if I were starving this highborn lady, but she just nodded again, looking as if she could fall asleep where she stood. She began heading into the woods alone and for a moment I thought she was mad.

"Where in seven hells are you going, girl?"

She turned slowly back to me at my inquiry, an impatient look on her face, and asked if she had leave to make water in privacy. _Idiot, Clegane._ I grunted a response and she continued through the brush, looking so incredibly out of place—like a rose amongst thorns. I needed to relieve myself as well, and headed in the opposite direction.

When she returned to our little clearing, she walked back to her mare and mumbled a few words to it, stroking the animal's muzzle gently. Then she picked up the saddle blanket from where she'd deposited it a few minutes ago and carried it toward the fallen tree, cleared a little space of any sticks or rocks, before laying herself down delicately upon the small blanket. I watched her from where I was seated on the tree with my wineskin, and chuckled under my breath despite myself. She might be a lady, but she wasn't entirely helpless. At least she had common sense.

After a few moments I followed her lead, picking up Stranger's saddle blanket with my skin of wine still clenched in my other fist. I cleared a spot several feet from where she lay, and sat upon the coarse fabric. Not knowing how to approach the topic of sleeping alone with her, I struggled internally for a moment before deciding that I'd rather get it out than have it hovering in the air between us.

"Does this make you uncomfortable, girl? Sleeping alone in the woods with a dog like me?" I chuckled, knowing that I sounded intimidating and harsh. I took a swig of wine and offered it to her, but she shook her head again—a barely noticeable movement from where she lay, exhausted. She'd be asleep within moments. I took another swig before lying down myself, rolling onto my side that faced away from her.

"No," a little voice came from behind, surprising me. "You don't make me uncomfortable." I swallowed, unsure of what I should say in response. She always made me unsure, though I'd never let on to it. "Thank you for helping me, ser."

Good, at least I could save face since she'd called me that. "I'm not a ser," I growled, adjusting my position to as comfortable a one as I could get while still fully armored. I wasn't prepared to remove it yet, especially not for a sleep of just a few hours.

"Thank you, Sandor."

She sounded barely there, as if she was almost talking in her sleep. She'd never know how long I lay there after, fully awake, remembering the sound of my name on her lips.

 **~Sansa~**

I jolted awake, startled, and my eyes focused slowly on the huge form hovering over me. I gasped and shuffled away instinctively, trying to get my bearings in the pale grey predawn. He grunted, "Come on, we need to keep moving."

It all came back to me in an instant—the escape, the long ride, and our stopping for a few hours of sleep. I guess he'd really meant only a few hours. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and tried to remember the details of the night before, when a frightening thought twisted through me, almost sending me into a panic. What had happened last night? I looked over at the spot where his blanket lay, several feet from mine, and tried to remember. No, there'd been nothing that occurred between us, at least not that I could recall. My mother's warning from years ago trickled through my brain—what men would do to a young lady if given a chance, and to always be on my guard. I glanced down at my dress and cloak which still covered me completely and decided that I was all right. I couldn't remember anything, and I doubt I would have slept through—whatever he might try to do to me—even if I had been exhausted.

He was standing next to Stranger now, speaking softly to the beast and caressing its mane. His profile on this side was untouched, and he almost looked like any other knight—I could almost believe in that moment that he was just like any of the soldiers from Winterfell. He must, after all, have some good in him if he'd left those horrid people and decided to help me, without wanting anything from me. I swallowed. I couldn't really know for sure yet, after all, whether he wanted something from me or not. But at least I was all right, for now, and that was the best I could hope for.

He turned and looked at me in that moment, and for just an instant he wasn't the Hound. I almost thought I saw a small smile on his face as he stood there with his hand on Stranger's neck, staring at me. It must have been a trick of the light though, for his countenance changed to its usual scowl in the next moment, and he growled at me to hurry up. _Fine, I don't have to sit here and try to see you as a normal human being._ I stood up and carried the blanket to my horse.

By the time we'd eaten a bit more of the food he'd brought and gotten back on the trail after freshening up at the stream, the orange light of sunrise was beaming through the trees on our right. Our pace was slower today—he said we needed to spare the horses—and I was grateful for that. My legs were horribly cramped and the skin on my inner thighs felt raw. My back ached. Even with the horses walking or occasionally trotting it still felt like torture. I focused my thoughts actively on Winterfell to keep my mind off of the pain. I thought of the north and everything I hoped to do upon returning home—visiting all my favorite people and places.

But even remembering my home came with its share of pain as I remembered all the faces that I would never see again. Father, Septa Mordane, Jory, and all the men and women of our household who had come south never to return. Arya. I whispered a prayer for her, hoping against hope that she'd somehow made it out of the capital alive. She was stupid and a pain in the neck, but she was my sister and of course I loved her.

The Hound's voice drew me from my thoughts as he allowed his horse to fall in step beside my own.

"It'll be dangerous, getting you home, I hope you realize that," he grumbled at me, casting a quick glance sideways. "The Riverlands are in the midst of war. Most of the smallfolk have come south to find refuge in that fucking city we just left, so we won't be finding much in the villages. My shithole brother is destroying the farms and homesteads there and your cunt brother is fighting a war with Tywin." _Why must he be so vile?_ I glanced at him disapprovingly and lifted my chin a little higher. Who was he to speak of my family in that way?

He continued, unfazed. "Aye, I know you don't like to hear it, but the truth of it is he's still a cunt. Never did nothing to get you and your sister out of the city safely, did he now? Seems to me he's had a valuable hostage this whole time and could've traded the Kingslayer for you." He laughed cruelly. "Must not've cared about you being beaten every time he had a victory." There was a bitterness in his voice when he said that, a meaning that I didn't quite comprehend, but he was wrong about Robb. Robb wouldn't have just left me to suffer.

"My brother is doing everything he can to save me and Arya. Why do you think he's marching south with our bannermen?" I asked the question with venom, my temper flaring at his harsh words against my blood.

He grabbed my mare's reins and glared at me, leaning over menacingly. "He's marching south because he's a dumb twat boy who got pissy when the other dumb twat boy in King's Landing took your father's head off. This whole fucking country is bleeding because two dumb twat boys with tiny cocks can't stand the other having the upper hand."

I colored at his foul language—I didn't think I'd ever get used to the way he spoke, but I was still angry. "Just help me get to my grandfather's castle at Riverrun. They'll pay you handsomely and you can leave and never be bothered with me or my—my 'awful' brother again." I clenched my jaw and jerked the reins from him, forcing my eyes ahead on the trail.

He laughed coldly. "You're a pretty picture when you're angry, did you know that? Can't say 'twat' can you? Them words is too dirty for a pretty little lady like yourself?" His coarse, gravelly laugh just grated on my nerves and I kicked my mare into a trot to put distance between it and myself. He laughed harder.

"All right, missy, hold up there." He caught up with me again and pushed Stranger ahead of my horse, forcing her to a submissive halt. His brown eyes fixed on mine and I thought there was a shade of remorse in them. "We'll forget about your—brother—for a moment, but the point still remains. These are dangerous times and you'll need to follow me in whatever I tell you to do if you want to make it to your family safely. Do you understand?"

I clenched my teeth, glaring at him. There was no doubt in my mind that he was right, but I hated to let him know. I decided my courtesy would be my weapon—I wouldn't stoop to his level. I'd just jab him one last time. "I understand. Ser." I moved my mare haughtily around Stranger, not waiting to decipher the emotions my comment may have evoked in him.

 **-Sandor-**

What an infuriating little—Northwoman she could be at times. I could never seem to pin a derogatory name on her, even in my own thoughts, which was strange since I'd never had a problem with derogatory names for anyone. I couldn't bring myself to go that far where she was concerned. _You're a nance with her_.

Fuck it, I was, and I knew there was no point in trying to hide it from myself. It wasn't lust either, I knew that, because if it were I'd have taken her already. She stirred something else inside me, something protective and—and noble? Fucking pansy words. She made me uncomfortable. I trotted after her, trying to remain annoyed with her, but only succeeding in chuckling to myself at how fucking cute she was when she was fired up. _This is going to be a long journey._

 **If you like my story, please leave a review, favorite, follow. They keep me inspired! Thanks to all my loyal readers :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**-Sandor-**

The sun had just dipped below the horizon when I turned Stranger's muzzle in the direction of the wood to seek out a place to make camp. We'd put considerable distance between us and the city, and a good, long rest for the night would do all of us some good—mounts and riders alike. We'd only stopped a few times since the sun had risen, and only once had I allowed a short nap to regain some energy and rest the horses.

I rotated in the saddle to catch a glimpse of the little bird. She looked exhausted. Her normally perfect appearance was disheveled with wisps of hair escaping her braid and the dirt and grime of the journey marring her white skin. She still sulked at my comments that morning about her family, which didn't bother me in the slightest—she needed to thicken her skin.

"We'll head back into them woods to rest. We can risk a longer sleep now."

She nodded icily, yet even so I could see the relief in her features—she was clearly at the end of her strength and in pain from the long ride. She moved her mare to follow Stranger off the path.

The stream was still in close proximity to the trail we'd kept to for most of the day, and as we approached it, the cold, crisp water seemed to beckon me to finally rid myself of the stench of my own body. After the heat and filth of the ride, there was nothing I wanted more than to disappear beneath that cold water. Well, that wasn't entirely true; I wanted her more.

I climbed down from my horse, having made up my mind to do it, and groaned loudly at the stiffness of every joint and muscle in my body. She pulled up beside me and watched as I began to remove my armor and stretch.

"What are you doing?" She asked, with more alarm than bewilderment in her voice.

I was fairly certain she already knew what I was doing, but I was only too pleased to tell her. I got a kind of raw pleasure out of seeing her discomfited.

"Bathing." I grinned at her predictable blush as the realization came over her. She began looking in different directions, the embarrassment at being placed in such a position clear on her face. I continued, reveling in teasing her as I tore off my boots.

"You should join me, I'm sure you'd like to get the filth of the journey off you?" My armor was gone now and I removed my tunic in a swift motion, waiting to see what her reaction might be to my semi-nakedness.

I had no intention of bathing with her—I wasn't so crude as that. I would finish and leave her some privacy to wash herself, but there was no harm in letting her think that I expected it of her. She was amusing when she was upset.

The little bird turned a visible shade of pink and looked away quickly from the sight of my bare chest and arms. She didn't say anything, just pulled the reins about roughly and began moving her mare downstream. I chuckled at her, watching her back as she put as much distance as she safely could between my bare chest and herself. In a swift movement I removed the rest of my clothing and slipped into the cold water, welcoming the shock that it gave to my nerves. The water reached about to my waist at the deepest point and I submerged myself completely, letting the cool liquid rinse away all of the sweat and filth and blood from the battle and our long ride.

After I surfaced and shook the water from my hair, I glimpsed her watching me. She looked away quickly and began stroking the muzzle of her horse, feigning interest in the animal, though I knew she could think of little else but her discomfort in the situation. It was difficult to suppress a grin. I was also grateful for the depth of the water which concealed my arousal. I didn't try to hide the truth from myself anymore. I was no longer in that castle, no longer working for that cunt king. Of course she aroused me. She was beautiful and innocent and completely at my mercy out here. Even thinking about it made me want to relieve myself. I chuckled inwardly at my thoughts and lowered myself into the water again, attempting to scrub away days of grime from my skin.

 **~Sansa~**

Gods, what was he thinking? Had he no shame? I'd never seen a man naked in my life, yet there he was not ten yards from me, bathing with no scruples. Well, perhaps I hadn't quite _seen_ all of his nakedness, but I knew that he certainly was naked now! And yet he grinned at me as if it were the most normal thing in the world!

I didn't even want to think about how I would manage bathing with him there. If I waited much longer I'd be bathing in full darkness, but I also didn't want to go out of his sight now to do it elsewhere, for my own safety. Perhaps I could just not bathe tonight...but no, I was covered in dirt and sweat, and the discomfort of being filthy the entire day had only heightened my impatience and agitation. I supposed I'd just have to do it now with my undergown still on and just allow it to dry on my body. There was no other way.

He moved toward the shore for his clothing and I jerked my head away again, lest I glimpse any of his nakedness from the waist down. Didn't he know I was a lady—highborn and not accustomed to such wanton displays? The more I thought on it, the more I supposed that of course he did know that and was likely enjoying himself. Of course he was. By now I should have known how much he liked to make me uncomfortable.

I put my chin up and determined then that I would get the better of him. I was Sansa Stark of Winterfell and I would not be intimidated.

He was rinsing his clothing in the stream, sitting close to the bank with the water reaching near his chest. It was not light enough to make out anything beneath the surface, even if the water had been crystal clear, which it was not. But it was clean and tempting enough to make my decision fairly easy to follow through.

After discreetly ensuring that he was watching, I began pulling the plait from my hair slowly, loosening it with my fingers and allowing the long, red strands to fall over my shoulders and down my back. I shook my mane out, running my fingers through it with exaggerated femininity, before moving to the laces on my gown. As I pulled at them, I chanced another glance his way and saw him stiffen. Good. Any discomfort I could return was a victory. I set my face in cold aloofness as I pulled at the laces, taking my time in the act. If he thought that he was the only one with the power to make the other squirm, I would show him! I loosened the garment from my waist before allowing it to fall completely from my small frame, where it pooled at my feet. The shock in his face was priceless and it fueled my pride, empowering me to continue, though my heart was pounding now and my stomach was all butterflies.

I was still fully covered, my undergown providing modesty, but the act of me undressing before him had been enough to shock him, which pleased me. I removed my boots, flipped my hair over my shoulder and moved into the water, bringing my dress with me. And so I bathed in front of a man for the first time in my life, scrubbing the filth of the journey from my clothes and skin and hair, with my chin high and my pride spared.

After a few long moments, I chanced a look once more in his direction. He was watching me and when my eyes met his, an ill-suppressed grin began to creep up one side of his face. To my surprise I found that I wanted to smile as well, prompted by the look of sheer amusement that had settled on his face. It was all so absurd, so unlikely—a highborn girl on the run with the king's dog, bathing together in the woods in a stream as if it were the most normal thing in the world. My frustration with him seemed to melt away, forgotten, like the grime and dirt of our journey—ebbing away with the cool water. A tiny giggle suddenly escaped my lips, bubbling up from my stomach and releasing all of the tension of the past twenty-four hours. He chuckled too, and for the first time since I'd known him, we shared a real laugh together.

There was no façade anymore where we had to please the people who held me captive—the people that he had served. There was no pretense, no titles in that moment. We were just two people, tired from a long journey, enjoying the simple pleasure of being clean and refreshed, and laughing at ourselves.

When the laughter subsided, my eyes locked with his and I found myself intentionally smiling at him—a smile which he returned after only a moment's hesitation. I didn't see the Hound in that moment, I didn't see a battle-hardened, scarred man who was gruff and angry all the time. I saw a man who had shown me a glimpse of his humanity, if only for a moment. A man watching me as I bathed, with amusement and maybe a tinge of desire in his brown eyes, now black in the moonlight. I found, with a quickening of my pulse, that I liked it.

 **-Sandor-**

I couldn't believe how feisty this girl was, now that she was freed of her captors. She'd always had the tiniest bit of an edge, even in the capital, when she'd find courage to bite back a retort at me. Yet it had always been just the smallest glimpse of what was an apparent dormant she-wolf that lived in her soul, and was only now revealing itself fully. Suddenly my "little bird" nickname seemed inappropriate. No longer cowed by captivity and fear, she was becoming intriguing and I found that she was taking over even more space in my thoughts than she already did.

What could she have meant by it? I had been certain that my boldness had made her uncomfortable, which had been my intent. Yet, in response, she practically performed a striptease for me! Was I only imagining that as intentional or _had_ she deliberately looked at me as she did it, drawing out her movements unnecessarily? It was driving me mad, and the more I dwelled on the thought, mulling over the meaning in my mind, the more I lusted after her. When she'd left the stream, though it had been nearly dark, the wet fabric had clung to every curve of her silhouette, accentuating the sensuality of the already stimulating moments we'd shared. I'd stayed in the water longer after, and not to finish washing my clothes as I'd pretended, but to conceal what she'd done to me.

Seven hells, how was I going to manage getting this girl all the way to fucking Winterfell without taking what I wanted out of her? It had hardly been a day since we'd left the capital and already I wanted nothing more than to tear her wet garment from her and take her now, in the moonlight, on the forest floor. There was no one to stop me, no one to hear her screams.

I didn't want her screams though. I wanted her laughs, like the one she'd given me freely only minutes ago. I clenched my jaw as I pulled my damp breeches back on. If restraining my desires meant I could pull more laughs and smiles out of her, I would do it. Though my inappropriate thoughts toward her gave me a certain lusty pleasure, they didn't compare to how her innocent looks and carefree laughter made me melt. I could never let on how much control she already had over me in every way.

I moved to where she now stood, by the side of her mare with her back to me. She'd been attempting to squeeze the water out of the undergarment she still wore, the dress she'd washed in the stream already wrung out and hanging over the saddle. Though it was dark, I was certain there was a blush on her cheeks when she turned to me upon my approach. She cast her gaze to the ground, suddenly shy again. What a manipulative little seductress.

"Let's go find a spot for the night," I grunted, almost sounding my gruff self again. I couldn't let her see what my true thoughts and feelings had been. She looked up at me innocently, as if she was completely unaware of how perky her nipples had grown from the cold, and how they were pushing suggestively through the thin fabric that clung to her breasts and revealed almost exactly what they'd look like bare. Fuck me.

 **~Sansa~**

Gods, what had I been thinking? After the moment had passed and I was just standing half-naked in that stream, it slowly began to dawn on me how foolish I'd been. I was alone, in the wilderness, with a huge man, a man who could easily overpower me at any moment and take whatever he wanted from me. While a part of me wanted him to look at me, to find me attractive, another part was terrified of what he would do if he decided that returning me home with my virtue intact was no longer something he cared to do.

When we began moving again to find a spot to camp for the night, I allowed the shame to wash over me, impressing upon me just how careless I'd been. All of my mother's words and warnings flashed through my mind—all of the times she'd reminded me of the importance of modesty and of behaving in a manner that was becoming to a lady rang in my ears. Here, for the sake of my pride, I'd _taunted_ a man with womanly arts, knowing full well that it was not only unadvisable, but possibly dangerous to do so. Fool, Sansa.

I glanced down at my appearance and gasped. Even in the moonlight, the curves and lines of my body were apparent in the clinging fabric. I groaned inwardly that he undoubtedly would have noticed how revealing my clothing was. I crossed one arm over my chest, leading my mare with the other, and prayed that the low light would not allow him to see anything clearly. What if he decided he wanted to take me now and—and rape me? There would be no stopping him. I swallowed hard and busied about with my horse once we'd reached a place that suited him, hoping that he was not the kind of man that I feared he was.

After he'd hobbled and brushed Stranger, he turned and looked back at me. "Did you happen to bring more clothes with you?" He glanced at the sack I'd brought from King's Landing where it was still tied to my saddle.

More shame. He _had_ noticed. I nodded, embarrassed, and he continued. "You should change." His eyes flicked briefly over my body before he turned away. "You'll make yourself sick sleeping in wet things."

I glanced nervously at the bag on the saddle, but I knew he was right. "I—okay. Where should I…?" I faltered, knowing full well that if he wanted to deny me privacy, wanted to deny me clothing even, he had the power to do so. I was completely at his mercy.

"Stand behind your horse," he growled, busying about making a spot to lie down. "I ain't looking."

I swallowed my anxiety as I pulled my other dress from the bag, a warmer one that I'd packed for the north, but it would have to do. The confusion and myriad feelings that swarmed through my mind and body almost made me dizzy. I was grateful that he was being—gentlemanly; offering me the courtesy of privacy, and I was relieved. But I felt something else too. Disappointment? No, it couldn't be that. Yet, there was something. A small part of me had wanted him to want me. _Oh, what on earth is wrong with me?_ I'd never felt so confused, and I pushed the thoughts away.

I managed to quickly switch dresses, shielding my nakedness in the interim with the body of my horse, and feeling grateful for the darkness. I hung both wet garments over a branch and hoped they'd dry by morning. When the time came to bring the blanket and my cloak over to where he sat on his bedding, I froze and groaned inwardly at the awkward position I was now in. I would need to approach him, would need to choose how closely to lay beside him, the man I'd practically stripped for not long ago. How could I have gotten myself into this? Where was the bravery from just minutes ago when I'd decided that I could boldly undress in front of him?

My hesitation did not go unnoticed, for he looked at me as he took a swig from his wineskin, and jerked his head to a spot near him. "Don't be afraid girl, I'm not going to hurt you. Didn't we already work that out?" Another grin, not as open and friendly as the one he'd given me in the stream, but not terrifying either.

I moved closer and laid my makeshift bedding several feet from his, sitting upon it rather awkwardly, and not knowing where to look. He handed me the wineskin, and to my surprise, I took it. My eyes closed briefly as I took a long drink from it, hoping to wash away the shame and confusion that I felt. He chuckled when I handed it back, after wiping my mouth delicately.

"I didn't think you'd take any wine." He glanced sideways at me from where he sat, leaning forward with his forearms lazily hung over his knees.

"I didn't think I would either," I managed, smiling weakly at him and trying to conceal the uncertainty that coursed through me.

"A little wine will relax you." He looked at me knowingly, and I felt the embarrassment again. All at once I wanted to clear the air—to explain myself.

"I—I'm sorry about—about back there." I began, hesitantly. "I was just—I was still upset with you and I know that you wanted to make me uncomfortable. I didn't want to give you the satisfaction." I raised my chin just slightly as I picked up a twig from the forest floor, breaking it to little bits absently in my hands. After a moment of silence, I breathed deeply and rushed out the rest. "I was unladylike and I'm ashamed at my behavior. My apologies." My heart seemed to stop as I waited breathlessly for his response, both desiring and dreading it.

He was quiet for a moment, taking another swig of his wine before he turned and assessed me with his gaze, as much as he could in the semi-darkness. Then he shrugged. "I just thought it was pretty damn funny."

I stared at him blankly, surprised at how light he made of it. He didn't seem to have noticed anything out of the ordinary. I relaxed, laughing softly in my relief. "I suppose it was funny." I glanced away sheepishly and continued. "Clearly you're not the only one of us with a temper." The remaining piece of twig in my hand was tossed into the darkness.

He chuckled, corked his wineskin and laid it next to him before stretching out on the small blanket and getting comfortable for the night.

"Was that your temper?" he asked. I could hear the smile in his voice as I followed his lead, stretching out and laying my head on my arm. He chuckled again, "Can't say I minded it."

My stomach fluttered strangely, and my breath caught in my throat. An unfamiliar ache began between my legs, which filled me with a sense of longing that I couldn't quite place or understand. What was it that was happening to me? I tried to convince myself that I was just anxious, being alone in the wilderness with a man, yet I couldn't fully bury the conviction that it was more than that. Sandor Clegane was confusing me, and I didn't know how to respond to it.

The darkness and silence filled the space between us for several long moments as we lay quietly on the forest floor, an arm's length from each other. Finally, in an attempt to breathe one last bit of life into our unusual interactions that night, and because I felt that I must say _something_ , I uttered a courtesy.

"Good night…Sandor." I said softly, unsure of what I should call him. I supposed his given name couldn't be unpleasant for him to hear.

He didn't respond for some time and I groaned inside, worrying I'd gone too far, been too familiar. I should have just gone to sleep. Now it hung in the air, awful and permanent, and I was more embarrassed than before.

Finally his low, familiar rasp broke the silence, piercing the night and my heart. "Good night, little bird."

 **Eesh, this stuff is so much more difficult to write being from their perspective. Keep me informed of what you think of their interactions. :D Thanks as always!**


	4. Chapter 4

**-Sandor-**

I awoke when one of the horses stirred, in the soft gray light before dawn. Immediately on guard, I reached for the blade beside me and peered in the direction of the animals, my eyes adjusting to the lighting slowly as I scanned our surroundings. The mare was flirting with Stranger, tossing her head in coquettish rejection of his advances. Figured. After a few tense moments, I saw no cause for alarm and lay back down, this time facing her.

She still slept soundly. Her auburn head lay upon her arm, and she used her cloak to cover herself from the chill of the night. Her hair and face were clean again, her skin soft and ever so slightly tinted by the additional sun exposure. She was close enough to reach out and touch—if only. I never entertained a hope that she could actually be mine, though I did sometimes imagine what it would be like if she were. Her deep, even breathing caused her chest to rise and fall steadily, and I found myself contended just to watch her sleep.

How would my life have been different if my brother hadn't been such a cunt? Would I have been able to entertain the idea of having a woman who could actually look at me—perhaps even feel something for me? A woman like her? My family name wasn't nearly important enough to allow a match with a woman like a Stark, one of the most powerful and ancient families in all of Westeros. Still, maybe another woman—beautiful and proper and sweet—though I couldn't think of any who compared to the one who slept beside me.

It didn't matter anyway. My brother _was_ a cunt, my face _was_ scarred and hideous, and as a result I was probably one of the most unpleasant men in the country. It was a wonder she managed herself so well in my company—it was undoubtedly not easy for her with my constant harsh manners. Why did she have to be so fucking perfect? It didn't make my job any easier.

What _was_ my job anyway? Was I in it for the money, for the reward I'd receive upon returning her to her family safely? It's not why I'd originally left the capital and not why I'd sought her out. I'd just wanted her to be safe—and I'd wanted to be with her. So what would happen when I got her safely to her family, but could no longer be with her?

The thought sent a jolt of dread through my stomach. When had I become so attached to her? I studied her face as I mulled over my problem, taking in the elegant curve of her cheekbones, the sleek brow, the long, feminine lashes which rested on her cheeks. I couldn't avoid bringing her to her family for my own selfish reasons, couldn't keep her forcibly as my own. No matter how I looked at it, our journey would end unhappily for me. I smiled a bit sadly as I watched her, knowing our story could never end together. That had never been reachable for me. At least she would be safe, though, and that gave me purpose. The reward didn't really make much difference to me—I only wanted her safe. And happy.

My eyes traveled away from her face to the curves of her body that disappeared beneath the dark fabric of her cloak and dress, and my thoughts took a more carnal turn. What would it be like to slip that fabric from her small frame and reveal what lay beneath—to run my hands along the smooth skin of her womanly figure, to taste her pretty mouth? She was like an exquisite delicacy, a jewel that only rich and powerful cunts could enjoy. I hated them for it, like I'd hated Joffrey. He'd had such perfection within his reach, had been betrothed to her! Yet he'd beaten and loathed her. What a fucking idiot. If she were mine I'd never let her go, never let any harm come to her. Not that she ever would be. She was Sansa Stark and she was untouchable for me.

Unless…

I'd already told myself I would never take her against her will—I would never hurt her like that. But what if it wasn't against her will? What if she wanted it too? What if she asked me for it? It was an absurd thought, and I couldn't say why I was entertaining it. Why in seven hells would this beautiful, highborn woman ask me to touch her, to take her? My thoughts stirred arousal in me, and I felt myself swell as the lusty pleasure of imagining her desire overtook me. She'd be mad to do it.

But, if she did. If some madness like what possessed her to undress in front of me last night took hold of her again and she wanted me, would I say no? I clenched my jaw as I tossed the question around in my mind. I had restraint and willpower, enough at least to keep me from taking her now when it was fully in my power to do so. But if she wanted it, would I be able to restrain myself? She stirred in her sleep, rolling onto her back and the outline of her breasts could be clearly made out in the early dawn light as they pushed against her dress, begging to be released. I went fully hard and inhaled deeply. No fucking way I could restrain myself if she asked for it. I was only a man.

Speaking of which, I hadn't had release in ages and with the stimulation of last night and the direction of my current thoughts, my body was fairly screaming for it. I rose, quietly so as not to wake her, and headed in the direction of the stream. I may not be able to actually touch her, but my mind was my own, and what occurred there didn't have to follow any of the rules that I was bound to outside of it.

 **~Sansa~**

The next two days were fairly uneventful—we rode and ate and rested and rode again. Every evening we found shelter in the woods and every morning we began our travels early. We spoke to each other on occasion, but there were no more intense moments like that evening at the stream. Most of the days were spent in relative silence, alone with our thoughts and our aching bodies. We only passed two other travelers, both heading in the direction of the capital, and neither said a word to us or seemed overly interested in where we were going or who we were.

I thought of many different things during that time, both to keep my mind occupied and to try to figure out what new direction my life was taking since my bold decision to leave the Red Keep with this man. And "this man" was in my mind often. Now, as we neared the end of the third full day of our travels, I tried to go back to the beginning when it came to Sandor Clegane, to determine what I really felt about him.

In Winterfell and on the Kingsroad, I'd hardly noticed him, aside from taking in how fierce and frightening he looked—I was completely absorbed in my prince. Ugh. I moved quickly past that painful reminder and tried to focus on the first time I'd felt any kind of positive emotion about the Hound.

It most certainly had been that first time he saved me, when he'd prevented me from pushing Joffrey over the edge. My image of "my prince" had twisted horrendously in my mind and heart after he'd taken Father's head—I began to loathe him more than anything or anyone in my entire life up to that point. When Sandor ( _Sandor is a rather nice name, it's a wonder I've never heard it in the stories…it'd make a good name for a knight_ ) when he stopped me and—and so _gently_ wiped the blood—yes, that was the first time I saw him as more than an angry dog. I knew then that there was something else to him—some depth—though I hadn't been interested in learning more at the time. I was still grief-stricken.

There had been other times too—when he covered my lie on Joffrey's nameday and when he offered me his cloak after that horrid Lannister bastard beat and stripped me. He hadn't even been asked, he'd just done it of his own accord, as if he'd been waiting to help me.

I couldn't really place the point in time when I began seeing him differently, I suppose it had just grown on me. Eventually I would look for him in court, because I felt safer with him there. Of course, after he'd saved me from rape in the streets of the city I'd seen him _very_ differently—he'd become an unlikely hero for me—a man who didn't fit the description of a knight, but he'd been _my_ knight all the same.

I watched his back now as he rode ahead of me and found myself studying his muscular form. He was huge—powerful and strong—certainly befitting the physical description of a knight. Well, besides the scarred face. I scrunched my face up as I realized that I'd nearly forgotten about the scars—I suppose the more time one spent with him, the less one noticed them. I couldn't help but admit to myself that I did see him slightly differently now that we were free of the capital than I did before. When I'd prayed for him that night, during the battle, I'd thought of him as that unlikely hero, the person who watched my back though he didn't have to—I'd wanted him safe; partly for my own selfish reasons.

But since we'd left—since we'd been sleeping and riding alone together for several days— _something_ had definitely changed in how I saw him. There was now a new element, an element of—tension, I supposed. I had become a woman and he certainly was a man (strangely I'd never noticed him as just a _man_ before, but now I most definitely did). When he looked at me, it was in much the same way he used to do in King's Landing, but it was also somehow more—raw.

It was all so new, so different—everything I was feeling and thinking was foreign to me. I'd admitted to myself already in my own thoughts that I wanted him to find me beautiful, to look at me and desire me, but only _just_ enough to flatter me—not enough to rape me. It was selfish, I knew, but I couldn't help it. It's not that I meant to tease him, but it felt—nice—to know that he wanted me.

No, it felt more than nice, and _that_ was the thing, the issue that I was trying to put my finger on. I couldn't figure out what I wanted out of him, or what I felt about him. Aside from a bit of an egotistical desire I had for him to want me, I couldn't place what I _truly_ felt about him. He was a man, a man who'd shown himself to be my protector—good. He was taking me to my family, another good thing. He didn't _seem_ to be doing it for his own reasons—I mean, aside from the reward which was to be expected. He could have taken me already but he hadn't, so that was another good thing about him. Yes, I suppose he was angry often, but who could blame him, considering his life? And really, the more time I spent with him, the more I learned about his anger. Sometimes he _was_ truly angry, but I began to realize that it was never directed at me. He got angry at other circumstances, or—I believed—at the card that life had dealt to him, but he wasn't angry with me. He seemed to calm around me, actually, which was interesting. I was learning to work around his gruffness—to see the emotions he tried to hide beneath it.

So it was mostly good still. How strange, that in assessing the Hound, I should come up with a fairly positive profile. There was still the complication of him being a killer, though. I bit my lip, trying to work that out. To be fair, that was his job, his life. All he'd been shown in his life was killing and hatred and violence, yet still he found it in his heart to protect the innocent—to protect me. He _had_ said he liked killing, but really, I didn't think so. Maybe he liked the _justice_ of killing the right people, but I didn't think he liked killing innocent people. At least, I hoped not.

Why was I thinking all of this? Was I trying to justify my own strange, new thoughts about him? What were those thoughts, really? I hadn't allowed them to truly materialize yet, they were more like shapeless ideas—feelings—twisting around inside of me when I looked at him. Was I—my breath caught in my throat as I allowed the idea to become an actual thought—was I attracted to him? No…no I couldn't be, he wasn't handsome like Joffrey had been...yet had that really been attraction? I suppose I had been attracted to the idea of being a queen, and he'd been a girl's fancy of a handsome prince. But I wasn't a girl anymore, he'd seen to that. Perhaps these strange stirrings in my stomach and occasional new aches were actually signs of attraction—a deeper, more mature attraction? A physical attraction?

Sandor couldn't see me from where I rode behind him, and I actually covered my mouth with one hand at my own thoughts. Gods, was I attracted to him? It seemed so strange, so absurd. What would Jeyne Poole, my girlhood companion, say? She would think I'd taken leave of my senses. And so I have, it would seem! And yet, the more I allowed the thought to take hold in my mind, the more it seemed to make sense. I was always flustered around him, always a bit unsure. I didn't see him as I'd always seen other servants or lowborns in service to me, I saw him more as an equal. More than an equal, really, I almost saw him as _my_ superior—strangely. I was always subconsciously seeking his approval, in my appearance and my actions. And, there was no doubt in my mind anymore that when I'd seen him bathing, I had admired his appearance, had been pleased with his body. It was built, and manly, and—and desirable. Gods, I _was_ attracted to him. I let out a small, audible chuckle.

He turned his head to look at me. "Was that you, little bird? Going mad are you?" He did one of his twisted grins, the ones that both seemed to mock me and show his amusement at me, simultaneously.

 _Don't look too long, you'll read what my thoughts have just been._ I laughed loudly then, and not at his comment, but at my own inner dialogue. He would never know though, thankfully, and just chuckled at me. "Aye, this riding is driving me mad too, I'd kill for a hot meal and some ale." He let Stranger fall into step beside my mare, the one that I'd refused to name. I'd likely only lose her like I'd lost Lady. There was no point in getting too attached to people or animals in this cruel world.

"We've almost run out of the food you brought, haven't we?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. We'd eaten what we could find along the road to supplement what he'd brought from the kitchens—hard cheese, biscuits and a bit of beef—but it was almost gone.

He nodded, "Aye. You wouldn't have seen much of it up in that keep, but the rest of the country is in a bit of a famine. Food is hard to come by." He spat, and continued. "We'll have to do a bit of hunting I reckon. Unless the inn that isn't much further up the road here is still in service."

Excitement coursed through me. "There's an inn?" I asked, breathlessly. A bath, a warm meal—a bed!

He read my thoughts and scowled sideways at me, "Should be, if this is where I think it is. This path should join back up with the Kingsroad just a bit further on. I remember it from our ride south from Winterfell. But don't you be getting your hopes up. Staying at an inn could be dangerous."

My face fell. "But—I'll wear my cloak and not even show my face. Perhaps they won't think I'm more than just a common girl," the hope in my voice sounded foolish, even to my own ears.

He scoffed. "A beautiful common girl with fine clothes that a bit of dirt can't hide, travelling with a man whose face marks him as the Hound from Dorne to the Wall?" I blushed at his description of me, but I knew he was right. And yet, how I longed for the comfort of sleeping indoors. I would find a way.

"You're right," I began, conceding a bit. "But shouldn't it be empty now? There was a great battle in King's Landing. If it's just the innkeep and a servant or two, why should they know what your business with me is? You could be escorting me somewhere on the King's command. There's been no time for news to travel ahead of us of the outcome of the battle, or of your desertion. And we'll be long gone before the innkeep has time to betray us, even if they would." I rushed it all out quickly, and was surprised at how well-thought-out it actually sounded.

He blinked at me, clearly surprised at my explanation. After assessing me for a moment, he asked, "Did you come up with all that just now, or have you been thinking for some time about what we'd do if we came upon an inn?"

I laughed again and looked down at the mane of my horse. "Maybe a little of both," I flirted. _What? Now I'm flirting? Gods, Sansa, get yourself together._

He grinned again, "All right, little bird, we'll have it your way. If it's empty, we'll see if we can stay. But the bit of coin I managed to grab before I left ain't going to last the whole trip. Don't get used to it."

"I have coin," I said, casually. His head whipped about and his eyes narrowed at me.

"You—you thought to bring coin in that bit of time that you stuffed your sack and chased after me?"

It was my turn to grin. "Yes. I just quickly thought, _What would I need on a long journey?_ So I packed the bit of clothing I thought I'd need, and hoped we could buy whatever else I couldn't carry. I brought the coin I had in my room, which wasn't much, but I grabbed my jewelry as well, and the gilded goblet and utensils which were sitting on my table, for what they're worth. They were the only things small enough that were sitting right there when I was stuffing my bag." I shrugged and glanced back at him.

He was flabbergasted, and his eyes flicked to my sack. "You're not shitting me, you brought all that with you?"

I laughed again, "Yes! Must I prove it to you? Why should you be so surprised?"

He narrowed his eyes at me again, and looked me up and down. Then he shook his head and looked ahead at the trail. "You play the part of a stupid girl very well. You had me fooled."

"You thought I was stupid?" I was confused now.

He turned gruff, "Aye, you walked along that keep with your head down and your voice tiny, always cowed. Only bit I'd known of you before then was your childish fascination with knights and maidens—and Joffrey."

"Oh I see," my temper flared as understanding dawned on me. "So because I'd always acted like a lady, and couldn't help my excitement at being betrothed to a prince, you couldn't understand how I might have had a working mind? That makes sense," I spat out sarcastically. "My zero wits or common sense just had me shuffling about that keep like a fool, is that it?" I knew my cheeks turned as red as my hair when I was angry, and he looked at them as my voice rose. "Never mind that I was a prisoner, called a traitor by everyone who mattered, witnessed my entire household—everyone I'd ever known—and my own father being put to the sword, then forced to look upon their severed heads! Never mind that I knew my sister was lost and likely dead while my younger brother lay on his deathbed and my eldest brother marched to war against my _beloved_ prince! Oh! Lest I forget, I might add that I was beaten and humiliated on a regular basis. Was _that_ why you believed me to be stupid?!" I'd released it all in an angry huff, speaking quickly and loudly as I did when I was riled up. Then with one final glare, I jerked my chin up and kicked the mare into a trot to put distance between myself and that man.

 **-Sandor-**

What. The. Fuck. Everything I knew or thought I knew about this girl was just continually turned on its head since this journey began. How in seven hells had—had she hidden this person from me? And how had I been such a fool to believe I had her figured out? _Gods, and she's right, of course._ While I was sauntering through that keep, secure in my position as a Kingsguard, I thought I had Sansa Stark pinned down. Could I have been more of an ass? Everything she'd just shouted at me played through my mind again as I kicked Stranger along to keep up with her (it wouldn't do to lose sight of her when we were so near the Kingsroad, after all.)

Of course it had all been an act, a front that she put on to keep herself safe from those people who'd murdered everyone she knew. All of her courtesies had just been her armor, what she used to protect herself. They hadn't been the only thoughts bouncing around in an empty head as I'd supposed them to be. I could kick myself. Sure, she'd been a bit silly and girlish when she'd first departed for the capital, but why shouldn't she have been? She was a lady, betrothed to a prince, with a golden life. It was only after the trouble on the Kingsroad when she'd lost her wolf that the harsh realities of life had begun to tarnish her view of the world.

But rather than seeing the person that was trapped inside of herself, trying to determine the best method of survival in a strange and dangerous place, I'd seen the timid, stammering prisoner and assumed I'd known who she was. Gods, I could be a dick at times. I suppose I deserved her anger.

Still, my ego smarted. I'd always prided myself on honesty and being able to read people and situations. I'd been so arrogant to her, so superior, and here she'd shown me in multiple scenarios that she not only thought things through, but she had a quick, intelligent mind. And now there was nothing to be done but to apologize. I loathed apologizing.

I pushed Stranger on and soon overtook her, pulling the beast in front of her smaller mare and forcing it to stop. The fire in the little bird's eyes was almost intimidating, but I'd rather just get this over with. She looked at me with a loathing I'd never seen before from her.

"Look, I know you're upset at me, girl, and I can't say that you don't have reason to be. I _did_ think—that—about you, but I can see now it only makes me the fool and not you." She didn't say anything, but her jaw clenched and she clutched the reins so tightly that I imagined she wished it was my neck.

I continued, "I never thought about what it'd be like to be in your shoes—until you described it so well back there. Anyway, I'm no good at this, but you're right. I was an ass."

A flash of surprise passed over her angry eyes, but I could see that she wasn't ready to let it go so quickly. The side of her nose pulled up in a bit of a disgusted sneer and she moved her mare around me. I reacted without thinking, placing my hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry. Sansa." I looked into those flashing blue eyes and hoped she could see that I did mean it. It had been pretty nasty of me to think her stupid when she had been in the worst place of her life.

Her brows contracted and she assessed my face first, and then my hand on her shoulder. Feeling uncomfortable suddenly, I removed it. She looked back into my eyes.

"That's the first time you've ever called me Sansa." She said it much more softly, and I could see that the fire had gone out of her.

I wrinkled my forehead, thinking of what she'd just said and trying to remember. "No…it isn't." I wasn't confident with my answer, though, for I didn't really know.

"It is." She said, with finality. Then her face relaxed and she looked down at her hands briefly before meeting my gaze again. "All right then, I'll forgive you for actually thinking me stupid. On one condition." One elegant brow raised, and I was captivated.

"What's that?" I growled, trying not to show the interest that I felt in what she was about to say.

"We're staying at the inn tonight." The corner of her pretty mouth pulled up in a triumphant smirk and she kicked the mare again, leaving me once more in a cloud of dust.


	5. Chapter 5

**-Sandor-**

My instincts hadn't failed me, and within twenty minutes or so, the path we'd been following opened up out of the wood onto the larger road that traversed the country from the Wall to King's Landing. I looked sideways at the lady and watched as she silently raised her hood to cover her head. Setting my jaw in determination, I pushed my heels into Stranger, and in the next moment we moved past the treeline and out onto the Kingsroad.

It was as she'd said; there was almost no one about. Though this had been a decent little village when we'd passed through it on the journey from Winterfell, now it was nearly deserted. Most of the villagers would have left for the safety of the city walls, away from the threat of war. Still, it seemed that a few had taken their chances and stayed. We glimpsed a handful of people on our way through, most eyeing us cautiously before deciding we weren't a threat and continuing with their business. This was not quite the Riverlands yet, so my brother and his band of dickheads wouldn't have burned the country this far south. The hovels, while many were empty, were still intact. More importantly, when I looked in the direction of the inn, there was smoke rising from the chimney.

I glanced at Sansa again and knew she'd seen it too. She smiled at me beneath her hood, but I edged Stranger closer to her quickly and grabbed her mare's reins.

"Follow my lead." I rasped. "I don't want to fight if I don't have to." She nodded, and put her head down further, yet it was obvious that she was too pleased at the prospect of the inn to care what I said to her.

I scanned the stables as we approached the inviting wood and stone structure and looked for lights in the windows. It did appear to be quite empty, just as the little bird had supposed. I rotated in my saddle to address her, "Wait here with the horses. If there's any trouble, shout for me." She glanced nervously over her shoulder, but nodded, staying on her mare and taking Stranger's reins in her little hands after I dismounted.

I approached the door of the modest building and pushed it open, allowing my eyes to adjust to the dim interior. A fire crackled in the hearth, and I initially thought the place was empty until I saw a middle aged, balding man with a full beard assessing me from where he stood across the room, wiping down a table.

"You be lookin' fer a room?" He seemed unsure whether he should offer one to me or not. His eyes traveled to the burned skin on my face, as was the habit of everyone who looked at me for the first time.

"Aye, for myself and my woman. We've two horses that'll need hay and stabling and we'll be wanting a warm meal for us. A bath wouldn't be a bad idea either." I moved closer to him, my heavy boots thudding loudly in the quiet room. He took a step back instinctually.

"I don't want no trouble here," he said with a kind of annoyed courage, as if he dealt with trouble all the time and it was just a pain in his ass. "You look like a soldier to me. A particular soldier I've heard of, come to think of it." He looked thoughtfully up at me without fear, which was impressive, but I was in no mood. I drew even closer to the smaller man.

"Whether I'm a 'particular soldier' or a fucking fisherman shouldn't make no difference to you. I've got coin and I'd like a room. I'm not looking for trouble, so don't be making none by asking questions that don't concern you," I growled, and knew that he understood me. "Now, will I be getting what I'm looking for here…or not?" I made sure to leave the impression that to refuse me would be worse for him.

He nodded, seeming to grow impatient, and waved me away, "I'll have a room for you then, leave your horses in the stables, my boy will get them." He fixed me with his deep set eyes that almost disappeared beneath bushy eyebrows. "Good food's scarce as you know, but you'll get a bowl 'o brown and I'll see that a bath is sent up to your room."

"Obliged," I said, almost sarcastically and began to leave. "Nearly forgot," I added, turning back to the innkeeper who was definitely impatient with me now. (The fuck did he have to do at the moment other than talk to me? The place was empty!) "Tell your boy to be careful with the stallion. He's been known to bite." I turned and left the building.

She was still where I'd left her, with only a shade of anxiety on her face which quickly disappeared upon seeing me emerge from the inn. Her face begged the answer and I nodded, trying to remain serious despite how catching her excitement was. She fairly vaulted from her mare.

"Oh, thank the gods! Who would have thought I'd be so pleased to stay in a common inn?" She giggled, looking girlish again and I snorted at her as we led the horses to the stables. She continued, unfazed. "That bed will feel finer than my featherbeds did, the food will be more delicious than a feast! Oh Sandor!—" She stopped abruptly in her rapture, as I'd turned back to her just in the moment she exclaimed my name. She colored and looked at her feet, but her happiness could not be suppressed so easily as that and I saw the grin was still decidedly on her face.

I allowed a chuckle as I pulled our things off the saddles and shut the horses behind the gate. I couldn't help it—making her happy was one of the best feelings in life. Still, I didn't let on. "You think a bowl 'o brown's going to taste more delicious than a feast?"

She looked up at me innocently as we began walking back to the inn, her brow slightly furrowed. "Bowl of brown? Is that—soup?"

I held the door for her and laughed. Fuck, she was so damned cute. "Aye, sure, it's soup."

She smiled and entered the inn before whirling happily back to face me. "Then yes, it most certainly will!"

I made a face that said "calm the fuck down" at her and she quickly looked apologetic, pulling the hood up over her head again and looking at the floor. It did all the good that tossing a blanket over a mountain of gold would do, for the innkeeper had only to take one look at her to know there was no way that woman was "my woman." At least, not properly. He glared at me, before approaching with a key and informing me of which room would be ours.

He eyed Sansa suspiciously. "I'll have your meal ready 'fore long, you can get settled." After a moment's hesitation, he held the key out to me.

I nodded and took it from him, then reached for the little bird's hand. I put on my nicest expression and tone of voice, and pretended for one moment that she was mine. It was easy to do, since I'd thought of it often. "Come, love, you look exhausted. There'll be a bed for us tonight." I walked her toward the stairs.

From beneath her hood I saw her cheeks burning, but she swallowed and managed to utter, "Y-yes, thank you, I am." The innkeep moved away, though I knew he would still watch as we climbed the stairs. Hopefully he'd keep his suspicions to himself.

When we left his line of sight I let go of her hand, ignoring the reluctance I felt to do so, and gave a little explanation. "He knew you weren't no common girl the moment he laid eyes on you, just as I said." She stood up a little straighter and pulled her hood back, trying to regain her composure. When I caught her eye, she nodded guiltily. "Least this way he might believe me to be a knight who just got lucky with some lesser lord's daughter." I snorted at my own unlikely story as I pushed the key in the lock and turned. The door swung inward, revealing our modest room for the night.

There was a small hearth, a window with a washstand beneath it, and a bed just barely large enough for two. A small room divider of wood and fabric separated a corner where a chamber pot and a tub were crammed behind it. When she stepped into the room, her awkwardness of moments ago seemed forgotten again as she threw herself onto the bed with a squeal of delight. The bed was harder than she was probably used to, and what she'd likely imagined to be a _poof_ sounded closer to a _thud_ as her body fell upon it.

The little bird just laughed, "Okay, so it's definitely not a featherbed." She looked up at me foolishly, as if she were slightly ashamed of her enthusiasm. "But it's still wonderful!" Her delicate hands stroked the rough fabric of the bedclothes as if they were the finest silk in the world, and she sighed contentedly. Then, as if remembering something, she caught my gaze and said shyly, "Thank you, Sandor."

Straight to my heart, dammit. You can't do that to me, girl, looking so pretty and perfect on that bed, saying my name like it's honey as if you don't hate the sight of me like all the other women do. I grunted at her, unwilling to risk more lest I unintentionally reveal something closer to the truth of what I felt when she said things like that.

After depositing our things in the corner, I turned back to her. "Best wash up before supper, that water will be black once I'm done with it." I jerked my head in the direction of the wash basin and she grinned, hopping to her feet and gratefully washing her hands and face in the cool, fresh water. I decided we were safe enough here and removed my armor, laying it with our other things before washing my own face while she dried hers. Then we headed back downstairs for that "bowl of brown." Soup. I snickered to myself.

 **~Sansa~**

Undeniably, I was on a bit of a high. We were inside and warm by the fire, we'd have a hot meal in our bellies in a few minutes, and there was a bath and a bed waiting for me! I didn't quite mentally tick off the fact that he'd sent a thrill through me when he'd addressed me as his woman, but it certainly added to my high—unofficially. I wasn't quite ready to admit to myself fully the effect he was beginning to have on me. We sat in a corner of the main room, nearer to the hearth as I'd requested, but far enough away from the innkeep behind his counter to prevent him from hearing our conversation. It didn't matter anyway; after he brought our supper, he left us alone in the room.

I looked down at the ambiguous, lumpy stew in the bowl and glanced up at Sandor. He was grinning hugely and it dawned on me that I'd been the butt of a joke. Ugh. It wasn't my fault that I was raised in a castle and ignorant to so much of the world outside. I raised my eyebrow sardonically, "This isn't soup."

He laughed at me and spooned a big bite into his mouth, chewing slowly to allow me to feel ridiculous for as long as possible. Finally, he swallowed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Nope. It's a bowl 'o brown." He grinned at me again.

"Stop!" I whined at him, feeling more playful than I let on as I took a dainty bite myself. It wasn't bad actually—any hot food was amazing right now, but I continued my protest at his teasing. "You know I can't help that I don't know—common things. I know I'm a joke to you." I pouted a bit, taking another bite as I looked sullenly at the table.

He chuckled softly, "I like to tease you, my lady." My head whipped up at his address. Why had he called me that? I supposed it wasn't any different from when he'd said it in the capital, but somehow he had put more meaning in the words than before. I blushed hotly and took another bite, trying to allow the pleasure of being warmed and fed to supersede the raw emotions that he incited in my stomach. _Stop it, stop it, stop it, Sansa! You're being a fool, he's not even a knight._

"Well, will you tell me what a 'bowl o' brown' means—to common people?" I asked, lifting my spoonful daintily. "I don't like to be ignorant."

His brown eyes flicked up to meet mine and the smile he gave me shot through me like an arrow. Why had I never noticed before how sweet his eyes were? They're so big—almost a bit sad, like a puppy…He interrupted my thoughts when his mouth began to move, but I didn't hear what he said, because I switched to staring at his mouth. I'd only ever kissed Joffrey's wormy, pink lips…this man's mouth was—well, manly—and surrounded with a beard…what would that feel like in a kiss?

"What are you staring at, girl?" His question shocked me out of my head and I gasped inaudibly. I'd completely zoned out, and the content of my thoughts had been scandalous. I knew my cheeks were burning.

"I-I'm sorry, I must be more tired than I thought. I didn't catch what you said," I managed, knowing my story sounded weak. He narrowed his eyes at me suspiciously and then repeated himself.

"I said it's just what the people call a stew that has questionable ingredients…they eat it when food is scarce or if they're very poor because it's cheap and everyone knows that you just don't ask what's in it."

I paled, looking down at the bowl with new understanding, but he tried to set me at ease. "I wouldn't worry about it here, it's likely just small animals that are easy for these folk to get their hands on. Squirrel or rat. Dog maybe. You're not eating human flesh like some have wondered about the bowls o' brown in the capital lately."

I choked. He'd only made it worse. "D-dog? Or—or rat? Gods…" I looked at the food with disgust.

"Aye, and what difference does it make, you were eating it just fine a moment ago. You say you don't want to be ignorant, well most of the poor in the city would kill for a bowl of what's in front of you. This ain't no time to be prudish, you eat or you starve in this world, girl."

I swallowed hard and burned in shame at his rebuke. I didn't like how he called me "girl," as if I didn't know anything—fully realizing the irony in this case where I truly hadn't known. Still…

"I'm not a girl," I said reproachfully, pulling the bowl slightly closer to me and sniffing it gingerly—as if I could smell what meat might be in it.

"Well don't fucking act like one, then," he growled, scooping up a huge bite and chewing with a look on his face that only shamed me further.

I was the blood of the wolf, and the wolf ate whatever it needed to in order to survive. I was not a little girl, not (always) a prissy lady. I forced my stomach to calm itself and took another bite, telling myself it was rabbit stew.

When we'd nearly finished eating, the innkeeper returned to inform us that the bath was ready. Sandor jerked his head at me to go, before requesting ale from the man. My discomfort during the meal was soon completely forgotten as I practically raced up the stairs to the room, locked the door behind me, and tore my clothing off like an animal. A warm bath!

The water was still hot, but I could ease slowly into it; I liked it that way anyway. "Ohhh yes!" I moaned as I stepped into the small tub, slowly lowering myself into the water that was like a healing elixir to me, easing all the aches from my joints and filth from my skin. I worked the braid loose from my hair and slipped my head under the water—no easy feat in such a small tub, but I managed. When I came back up I almost laughed at how dirty I'd already made the water. How wonderful it felt to get clean! Reaching for the little block of soap that had been placed nearby, I began vigorously scrubbing everywhere.

I suppose he'd waited until he'd thought I'd be finished before coming back up to the room. I hadn't finished though—I'd been lying with my head against the rim of the tub with my eyes closed, reveling in the ecstasy of the warm water. Truth be told, I'd also been twisting one nipple absently, trying to not think of being in this room alone with him tonight, and trying harder not to let the thought excite me.

At his soft knock I jolted upright, standing quickly and splashing water loudly in my haste. "I-I'm sorry," I faltered, gathering the cloth to dry myself off quickly. "I lost track of time, give me one moment." I hurriedly dried off and pulled my undergown over my head, tying it hastily behind my back. I'd washed it yesterday at the stream as best I could and it was the cleanest item I had now. My dresses, however, were both still dirty and I hesitated, not wanting to put one on over my freshly cleaned self. He knocked again and I quickly glanced down at myself. Oh, it would have to do! At least I was completely covered and when the garment was dry it didn't stick to my skin as it had done that evening in the stream. I unlocked the door to allow him in.

Sandor looked a bit surprised to see my still dripping wet head and hastily thrown-on undergarment, but we were both much more used to things being out of the ordinary since we'd begun our journey. We were, after all, pretending to be a married couple in this inn.

He snickered, "I gave you nearly half an hour. Wasn't good enough?"

I looked at the floor and blushed for, what, the fifth time that night? I was coming undone around him. "It just felt so nice to get clean…," I explained timidly, stepping aside so he could enter.

He watched me as I ruffled the drying cloth against my hair and ran my fingers through it to pull the tangles out. "Aye, and now it's my turn," he grinned.

Oh, gods, I'd forgotten! But, where would I go? I glanced at the tub and then the door. "Should I wait downstairs?" I asked with uncertainty.

He growled a bit, "No, that would be more suspicious than anything, we're trying to make him believe you're my wife. It's one thing if I'm grabbing a drink while you bathe, but for you to purposely leave just to, what, twiddle your thumbs?" He shook his head. "You'll be fine, there's a partition. Just don't look." He winked at me.

Winked! I gasped. Did he suspect that I was attracted to him? Please, no. I lifted my chin, determined to not be made uncomfortable and forced a shrug. "Fine, but the water isn't so hot anymore."

"Don't care," he responded as he quickly removed his tunic, revealing his chiseled back to me. It was marred here and there with battle scars, just as his chest was. Somehow I could still see his chest clearly in my mind's eye. "Don't like it hot anyway." I forced myself to look away and moved to the bed where the tub would be fully hidden behind the small partition.

I picked up my sack from the corner and dug through it for something to keep me busy—my needle and thread, two items I was never without. Since I had the time and the candlelight, I'd patch my clothing, and when he was done bathing I could wash the dresses and hang them. I tried to pretend he wasn't about to get naked behind that bit of wood and fabric, but I knew he was. He stood a good head and shoulders above it and glanced at me, then pretended to be concerned as he checked that he was fully covered by the partition before removing his pants with a grin.

I glared ahead at my needle, focusing intently on threading it. "You're very inappropriate, Ser." I said, disapprovingly. I was desperately trying not to smile.

He chuckled, "Good thing I'm not a ser, then." The water lapped the edges of the tub as he stepped in, groaning a little just as I'd done. I gasped again—as silently as I could—in response to the sound he'd made, and I felt my nipples harden and a dull ache begin between my legs. What was wrong with me? I heard the water slapping against him as he wet himself and probably soaped his body. An image floated up in my mind of his bare arms and chest, dripping wet just feet from where I sat. The ache continued and I began to feel a wetness between my legs. Was it my moonblood? No, I groaned inwardly, how could it have come again so quickly? I looked at the partition, ensuring I was completely hidden from his view, before lifting my skirts to check. There was no blood, but I was definitely wet with something else. Gods, what a nightmare. I stuffed my hand in my sack to find and put on some smallclothes, something I hadn't had time to do before I'd let him in the room. I pulled them on quickly and returned to my seat on the bed, trying again to focus on my sewing.

For the next five minutes or so I tried desperately to think of anything but his nakedness behind that partition. I managed a bit of mending, feeling as if my heart was pounding out of my chest the whole time. It seemed an eternity had passed before I finally heard him standing and saw him appear above the divider out of the corner of my eye. I pretended to be very focused on my work. He was drying himself, but then he paused and looked directly at me.

"Little bird."

"Mmm?" I asked, nonchalantly, as if I could scarcely tear myself from my task.

He chuckled, "I forgot to bring my bag over here. Will you hand it to me?"

 _Don't blush, don't react. It's just a simple request._ "Oh. Yes, of course." I stood and grabbed it, taking a steady breath and hoping I didn't look as feverish as I felt inside. When I lifted it up over the divider, my eyes locked with his and they taunted me.

"Poor little bird, do I make you so uncomfortable?" He laughed and I blushed again, ashamed at my failure to hide the tumult of emotions going on inside of me. "Well, I'm not surprised," he continued. "You're a lady, this whole situation must be the worst thing in the world for you." His voice came from behind the divider as he rummaged in his bag for cleaner clothing.

"No," I lied, moving back to the bed. "It's just the way it has to be, we—we're basically fugitives and doing what we have to, to survive." I sat upon the mattress again, reaching for my sewing to finish it.

Sandor stepped out from behind the divider, his hair still damp, his upper body bare. The muscles in my woman's place clenched involuntarily and a shot of pleasure swept through my body. I almost felt faint, so unsure of what was happening, so intoxicated by the dim lighting and strange desires I was having. He was drying his hair as he fixed me in his gaze.

"Well, since we're 'doing what we have to do' I'm going to have to be without a tunic. I need to wash mine." He gathered his dirty clothes as he said it and moved back to the bath, dumping them in. "Don't tell your mother." I heard the smile in his voice.

I rolled my eyes and forced myself to be dismissive. "I'm not so uptight as all that, you know. You don't have to protect me from—from the reality of the position we're in." I didn't really know how to say what I was trying to say. All I could think of was the sensation I had in my lower body when I looked at him. I knew what it was now. I knew it was lust.

I wanted him. I wanted him to touch me, to kiss me, to put his hands on me. I couldn't say why I wanted it, but it was like an animal desire that came out of nowhere. I knew it could never happen, though. I knew I couldn't be irresponsible with my virtue like that. I was a lady and I'd need to marry a lord someday. I couldn't allow myself to be tainted by an ill-advised union with a man like Sandor. But still, I'd never known that the feeling could be so strong—so intense and consuming. I suddenly understood, perhaps a little, of what men must feel when they lusted after a woman.

I tied off my thread and gathered my clothing, planning to wash them as well. The water wasn't the cleanest, from the dirt and sweat of both our bodies, but there was soap in it and it would still get the clothes considerably cleaner than they were now. At least they'd smell better.

He responded to my comment. "All right. Since we're on the topic..." He fixed his gaze on me as I moved toward the tub with my garments.

"Here, I'll wash yours," I said, and waved him off. He moved away from the tub hesitantly. "Go ahead," I continued, dropping my clothes in the water and swishing them about. I needed more to do, more to keep my mind off of my desire. "What did you want to say?"

He looked as if he didn't know what to do with himself and crossed his arms. "I've been thinking," he started, watching me closely for my reaction. "We should go to Maidenpool."

I glanced up at him quickly from where I was scrubbing at the clothing with the bar of soap, leaning over the tub. "Maidenpool? Why?"

He leaned against the wall, watching me work with amusement in his features, before he began to explain his reasoning. "We could board a ship to White Harbor. It'd be safer and much easier than riding through the Riverlands. They're in the midst of war and who knows what trouble we'd run into. White Harbor belongs to the North, and you'd be safe there. I didn't really consider it before, but when you mentioned the gold you brought, it opened up that possibility." He shrugged and waited for my response.

I didn't say anything as I tossed the idea about in my mind. It did have a certain appeal to it. We wouldn't be riding every day and sleeping on the ground every night. And he was right, we _would_ be safe upon landing in White Harbor. I could go to Lord Manderly who knew me personally, and reveal myself. He'd see me safely to Winterfell.

I looked up at Sandor. His hard body caught the candlelight in exactly the right way, defining the muscles of his chest and stomach, his biceps bulging against his sides. I swallowed and deliberately prevented my eyes from traveling lower. _Focus, Sansa._

"I think that may be a good plan, actually." I tore my eyes from him and continued my task, rinsing the clothing now as best I could.

He snorted. "Of course it's a good plan, I thought of it." He grinned and moved to the bed, reclining on it and releasing a contented sigh.

Was he planning to sleep in the bed? No, I couldn't. I wouldn't be able to sleep at all. Swallowing hard, I wrung the clothes out one at a time and hung them over the partition to dry. There was a crack between the panels and I snuck a glance through them as I worked. He was lying there, with his arms behind his head and his eyes closed. I bit my lip as my eyes traveled to the bulge in his breeches. I wasn't a fool, I knew the mechanics of sex, though I had absolutely no experience. I'd never been interested in it before now—had never desired it. Now I found myself wondering what he looked like beneath his pants, what it would be like to be—to be taken by him. I clenched my jaw as I hung the next garment, mentally rebelling against my own conscience.

 _I can think whatever I want! No one will know what goes on in my mind. I don't have to be a lady there._ I set my chin high, as if the physical action would help to solidify my conviction, though I wasn't as convinced as I pretended to be. The truth was that I was torn—physically it felt good to indulge my desires, even just mentally. My conscience, however, was fighting with me, trying to convince me that it was wrong to think such things, or to feel this way. It was confusing and frustrating. I decided to ignore the struggle for now. I couldn't help what I felt, and no one knew my thoughts. As long as I didn't act on anything, I'd be fine.

I emerged from behind the divider and there was nothing to do anymore but to face him. He cracked an eye open and grinned at my obvious uncertainty about where I should go or what I should do with myself. "Don't worry, little bird, I'm not sleeping here. Just enjoying the bed for a minute." He wiggled his body into the mattress further, pretending to be getting more comfortable.

"No, I—" I faltered as I moved toward the bed and timidly sat at the foot of it. "I don't care, really. You need a good sleep too, and we've been sleeping near each other every night already." I waved my hand dismissively. "It's fine, I don't mind."

He sat up suddenly, towering above me, and studied my face with a hint of a question in his eyes. His bare chest was so near me I could feel the heat coming off of it. I gasped and looked down, feeling my pulse between my legs.

"Well I mind," he said finally. "Do you think it's easy to be 'sleeping near each other' every night?" He spoke so quietly, so intensely that I hardly dared to breathe. "Maybe the fine knights in your stories could easily just sleep alongside a fair maiden." He pushed a lock of hair over my shoulder gently. "A very fair maiden." His rasping voice sent chills through me and I shuddered out a breath. "But I'm a real man, with blood running through my veins not fucking poetry." He was so close to me I could smell the soap on his skin and the ale on his breath. I gingerly lifted my eyes to his. They looked so dark in the candlelight, almost black, and for the first time I saw the desire in them clearly. It wasn't a question of desire, wasn't a hint of it. He _wanted_ me and he was letting me know. "I'll sleep on the floor," he finished.

He moved to get up, but I stopped him, boldly pushing my hand against his bare chest. I heard him catch his breath and he grabbed my wrist, looking down at my face intensely as he tried to read it, tried to learn what I'd meant by it. My heart was nearly beating out of my chest, but I managed to meet his gaze.

"It's not easy for me either," I whispered, searching his eyes for a moment, before letting my gaze fall demurely. I didn't know where I'd gotten the courage to speak so freely, but in the moment I was possessed with the passion of our circumstances. I'd acted without thinking.

A long moment passed—the longest of my life. His breath moved the little hairs that framed my face; it was warm and erratic. His strong hand still grasped my wrist, his upper body heaved beneath my fingers. The little wiry hairs on his chest curled over my fingernails. The candlelight danced over us.

Finally, he let out a frustrated growl and stood quickly, releasing my wrist and making for the door. He wrenched it open, marched into the hall and slammed it shut behind him.

 **Not going to lie, I loved this chapter! Let me know what you're thinking, I love your reviews!**


	6. Chapter 6

**-Sandor-**

If I'd stayed in that room even a moment longer I'd have thrown everything to the wind and taken her. Her eyes had been begging for it—even her body language, in retrospect, was obvious—she wanted me too. Fuck, but how? And why? Why would she want me?

I ran my hands through my hair in agitation as I paced outside the inn. I'd needed to put distance between us, needed fresh air to clear my head, even though it didn't feel any clearer yet. I could see her in my mind's eye—her damp hair, her simple undergarment trying desperately to conceal the perfect body beneath it, her clear blue eyes that looked at me like…like I've never been looked at before by any other woman. I growled in frustration, clenching my fists as the blood surged hot through my body and my limbs trembled. I could go back in there right now and take her—and she'd want it, too. She'd respond to me, melt at my touches—whisper my name. I was hard just thinking about it.

Yet I wasn't going back in, and I wasn't going to until I got myself under control. I couldn't say why I wasn't giving in, but something wasn't right about it. I wanted her more than I'd ever wanted anything. She was so—intoxicating—sexually and emotionally. But there was something else I was waiting for, though I couldn't put my finger on what it was.

Still, would we actually be able to make it to her home without something happening between us? We weren't even a quarter of the way yet and already we'd come within seconds of physical connection. At least, I thought we had. Maybe I was misreading what she meant? She'd said that it wasn't easy for her either—maybe she meant that it wasn't easy to be around a man like me?

No…no, she'd meant it how I'd meant it. The look in her eyes, the quickening of her breath, and the way she'd touched me. I placed my hand on the spot where hers had been, coincidentally right over my heart. It still tingled from her touch; I could still feel the soft warmth of her skin on mine. And the whole evening she'd been blushing and stammering—even on the road when she'd said it was the first time I'd used her name, she'd seemed somehow different. Something had changed in how she saw me since we left the capital, but I didn't know why.

Yet, though it thrilled me to think that she wanted me too, there was some hesitation that I couldn't quite explain. I didn't want her to just want me physically. I wanted more from her, and I didn't know if I would ever get that. She would one day wed a high lord, she had responsibilities to her family name, and I'd be nothing more than her first sexual experience to satisfy the natural lusty inclinations young people feel. I couldn't help but want more than that. I might have been the king's dog before, but I wouldn't be that for her, I couldn't—I already felt too much for her.

I cracked my neck both ways, stepping into the woods to make water and hopefully shake off some of the tension I felt. My eyes closed and I shook out my limbs while taking deep breaths, trying to get control of my faculties once more. I could do this. I'd wait a bit longer before going back up to her—wait for my sexual drive to calm down and my blood to cool. I could only hope that she wouldn't be ready to push it further. If she made the first move, I knew that I wouldn't be able to stop her.

After visiting Stranger for a bit in the stables to pass more time, I headed back into the inn. I meant to go straight upstairs, but instead I ran into the keeper in the main room. He looked up at me from where he sat, folding linens on a table, and suddenly decided to engage me in conversation. Perfect. Exactly what I didn't want at the moment.

His eyebrows raised, and he looked at my naked upper half with a bit of an accusatory expression. "Forget to get dressed after, did you?"

Shit, I'd forgotten I was shirtless. I looked down at myself, chose to ignore his accusation, and explained, "We washed our clothing—everything was still wet."

"Heard you slammin' doors and stompin' all the way from the kitchens. Have a quarrel with your wife?" He asked, watching my reaction closely.

I narrowed my eyes at him. This man was prying far too much into my business. Still, I thought it may be better to not antagonize him before we were done using his hospitality. I shrugged, "She's—with child." The lie flowed smoothly, though I cringed a bit internally. I hated lying. "She gets worked up much more easily lately."

He seemed to relax a bit and nodded, "Ah, must be why your little woman asked me for extra linens. Don't you mind about her, I remember when my own Gemma was pregnant with my boy. Always cryin' always needin' somethin' or other." He shook his head as if pregnant women were the biggest trial for all menfolk, then looked up at me and chuckled. "Can't say I never ended up fleeing from her anger a time or two meself. And at least your woman is a pleasure to look at, that's for certain. My Gemma wasn't no beauty like that, but she was a fine woman, kind and good." A shade of sorrow crossed over his face, "Died nearly four years ago now. Sickness took her." The innkeeper shook his head again and looked at me. "Well, gods know I couldn't never resist a handsome woman and I gave yours what she asked me for. I imagine she's all tucked away for the night so you could sneak back in without her bitin' your head off. Even so, meanin' no offense, it seems to me you got mighty lucky with that one." He actually grinned beneath the bushy mustache, for the first time not acting as if he were suspicious of me.

I chuckled, "Aye. I s'pose I did." I wasn't in the mood for conversation so I gave him a respectful nod, which he returned, and then I turned and headed back up the stairs.

The room was dark—she must have put out the candle before going to bed. I closed the door behind me as quietly as I could while my eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. There was something on the floor beside the bed, and after a moment I realized she'd laid out a makeshift bed—for me. Pillows, a few blankets and a sheet were neatly arranged to soften the floorboards where I'd told her I'd be spending the night.

I was touched. Never before had anyone done a kindness like that for me. It was so simple and thoughtful—she wouldn't have known why I stormed out of the room, or wouldn't have been sure anyway—yet she still thought to do something kind despite my agitation in the moment. I moved closer to the bed where she lay beneath the covers, her auburn hair spread out on the pillow beneath her. I'd never seen her sleep in a proper bed before and she looked pristine—like a maiden from one of her stories. A very fair maiden. I smiled in remembrance, unable to believe that I'd actually revealed so much of my attraction to her.

I wanted nothing more than to kiss her in that moment. The moonlight was spilling through the window, casting a surreal glow about her lovely face. I went down to one knee beside the bed, taking in her beautiful, soft features, watching her breast rise and fall in peaceful sleep. I reached out and pushed a lock of hair back from her cheek, stroking the soft skin with my thumb, and feeling a dull ache in my chest.

"Thank you, Sansa," I rasped softly, before reluctantly removing my hand from her warm skin. She hadn't stirred, and I was grateful. I needed to be alone with my thoughts, and I reclined onto the little bed she'd made for me.

For what seemed like ages I replayed the evening over and over in my mind, always lingering on her hand upon my chest, her eyes full of longing—the little act of kindness she'd done for me—until I finally slipped into unconsciousness.

 **~Sansa~**

He'd always risen before me, every morning since we'd started the journey. Every morning until this one. I'd gone to bed anxious, wondering if he was all right (if I was all right!), and I always awoke early whenever I fell asleep in anxiety. The sun hadn't risen yet, but already the room was light enough to see clearly. He slept beneath me, just a foot or so from where I lay, and I smiled down at him, pleased that he'd slept in the bed I'd made for him. I hoped he appreciated it—that he wasn't angry at me anymore.

I didn't know what I'd done last night that would have made him angry. The only thing that seemed to make sense to me was that he'd just been frustrated at the situation. But I couldn't know for certain. Perhaps I'd said the wrong thing, or he hadn't wanted me to touch him. The uncertainty was awful, and I'd had some stomach wrenching moments last night after he'd left—pacing the room, feeling terrible, and trying to work over what had happened in my mind. After some time I'd calmed down, tried to think clearly, and decided that he must have just needed to get away. That's when I'd gone to the innkeeper to ask him for the extra bedding—I wanted Sandor to be comfortable since the reason he couldn't sleep in the bed was because of me. And because he was a good man.

He seemed to be comfortable enough now. I studied his face as he slept, for the first time getting a real, long look at the burned skin. How awful that his own brother had done it to him—and he had only been a child, perhaps Rickon's age. My heart broke as my eyes traveled over the dips and ridges in the skin, the holes and stretched scar tissue. How the pain must have been terrible! And the pain in his little heart would probably have been worse. His own brother had done something so cruel, and his father had just explained it away. I almost felt guilty that I had a family who loved me—a wealthy, important family who cared for me deeply. And he had no one.

I felt more than pity as I gazed at him, thinking of his past. I felt protectiveness. I wanted to give him something he'd never had before—I wanted to care for him, to make him feel that he was not alone in the world. I hoped that my little gesture last night had made him feel that at least someone cared for him—cared for his happiness and comfort. But was that all I cared for? His happiness and comfort?

My eyes moved across his face, taking in all of him as he slept. He breathed deeply and evenly, huge breaths that matched his huge stature. His large hand lay across his chest, and the other one supported his head from beneath the pillow. He was really more handsome than I'd initially thought, even with the scars. There was a rugged, natural sort of appeal to his looks—like pure man. There was no prettiness or boyishness about him.

I sighed and laid my head back down. There was no point in assessing him like this, thinking about him. I could never be with him that way even if I wanted to. I didn't even know if I wanted to. I did want him to be cared for and happy though—perhaps I could request that he stay on as my personal guard once we made it to Winterfell. If he would want that, I mean. Although…that could just make things worse if we were developing something for each other. And were we?

Gods, last night…I'd never felt _such_ a passionate moment in all my life. Everything inside me had been screaming for him to snatch me up in his arms and kiss me. I shuddered in remembrance—the heat, the question, the longing. Oh, it had been intoxicating! Yes, it would be very difficult to be around him if we continued having moments like that. What would it mean for me? It was too much to think of, too much to try to work out and I pushed the thoughts away, content to just be near him at the moment. Let the future figure itself out, right now I was happy.

He stirred and grunted awake suddenly, his eyes darting about the room before finally settling on me. He relaxed and let his head fall back on the pillow as he wiped the sleep from his eyes.

"You're awake early, little bird." He rasped, with an extra gravelly, early morning voice.

"Yes," I said simply, still watching him. A contented smile rested on my face as I lay at the edge of the short bed, looking down at him.

"You been watching me sleep?" He chuckled.

"Nooo, not exactly…I mean, just for a moment," I said, truthfully enough. I hadn't watched him very long at least. "I wanted to see that you were sleeping well."

He smiled up at me, a smile free from sarcasm or cynicism, though it seemed a little sad. "I slept very well. Thank you, little bird." His eyes fell from mine and he turned to look up at a random spot on the ceiling. "Why'd you think to do something like this for me?" He held up a bit of the blanket he was lying on.

I pushed myself up onto my elbow. "I don't know, I just wanted to. I wanted you to be comfortable," I explained softly. "I—I'm sorry for last night. For making you upset. I didn't mean to." I looked down at the simple pattern on the quilt, tracing the design with one finger.

He was silent for a moment before responding. "There's nothing to apologize for—I wasn't upset with you. I just—needed some air." He glanced back at me with a touch of uncertainty in his brown eyes as they searched mine, looking for something. Then he took a deep breath and seemed to change his expression, and the subject as well. "Hungry?"

I smiled and nodded.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

An hour or two after sunrise we were back on the road. After paying the innkeeper for our stay and some extra food for the journey, we began heading northeast in the direction of Maidenpool. There was no direct road there from our current position—the main route would have led out of King's Landing along the coast—but we could make do through the woods and fields. It'd be slower riding, but also more difficult for us to be followed. Sandor made certain to leave town on the Kingsroad, not letting the innkeeper know any details of where we were headed except generally "north." Once we were out of sight of the village, we turned northeast.

There was something idyllic and romantic about riding through lone fields of tall grass and wildflowers. I had enjoyed the woods too, but this was a different sort of lovely. The wind swept through the grasses making them rise and fall like waves on the sea. I closed my eyes and inhaled the sweet smell of freedom. I was finally starting to feel happy again. Joffrey and King's Landing were beginning to feel like a bad dream, and rather than being nervous about my current companion as I'd thought I'd be when I'd first started out on the journey with him, I found myself not only enjoying his company, but craving it in a new, exciting way.

It was midday and we'd already stopped once an hour or so ago for a quick bite to eat and some rest. Now the horses were moving at a leisurely pace and I had my hands out at my sides, letting the wind caress my face and hair, leaving my mare to follow Stranger herself without any guidance from me. A peaceful expression settled on my face and I was imagining I was soaring home—over the war-torn country, over the armies and castles—flying on the wings of freedom.

"Someone's enjoying themselves," he drawled beside me.

I smiled and opened my eyes, taking the reins in my hands again with only a bit of embarrassment. "I am," I said decidedly. "It's beautiful. And I'm free." He met my gaze and smiled almost sadly, before focusing on the fields ahead once more.

"Sandor?" I had to know, and now seemed as good a time as any.

He didn't look at me. "What is it, little bird?"

I took a deep breath and jumped right into it. "Why did you come to me? During the battle? Why did you want to bring me home?" It was a question I'd had since that terrifying night, though I hadn't felt comfortable enough with him to ask until now.

He looked as if he'd anticipated this question would come sooner or later, but didn't say anything for a long moment, and soon I began to feel that maybe he wouldn't answer. Finally he cleared his throat a bit and responded.

"You know how I got this?" He pointed at the burned side of his face and I nodded. Then I remembered he wasn't looking at me and mumbled a timid, "Yes."

"Then you know about my brother? About the kind of person he is?" His voice was thick with contempt and his jaw clenched involuntarily.

"Yes I—I remember how he tried to kill Ser Loras at Father's tournament. And you stood up to him. You were so brave," I breathed in admiration, hoping it would please him.

"I wasn't brave, I was angry. I've been angry at him my whole life, since he did this. People think I'm angry because of what he did to me, but—" he paused and looked sideways—assessing me—as if he was contemplating whether he wanted to tell me or not. "You'll not speak of this to anyone." It wasn't a request.

I nodded, swallowing hard as I realized that he was taking me into his confidence about something that he felt strongly about. I hoped I wouldn't disappoint him. He looked back to the horizon once more.

"I hate him for what he did to me, but I hate him more for what he did to her." He let the statement sink in and my heart seemed to stop. Did Sandor have a lover once that the Mountain had harmed? Or some other woman he was close to? Who was she?

"Who?" I asked, my voice like a mouse. It was someone he'd obviously cared deeply for, and I felt nervous asking him.

"Our sister." His rasping voice was thick with pain, and I gasped in surprise.

"I—I didn't know you had a sister," I said softly. I didn't want to ask the next question, to ask what had happened to her. He would tell me when he was ready.

"Aye. A sweet girl. Our mother died when she was a babe, and I always watched over her." He smiled sadly in remembrance. "Ayla, she was. Little Ayla. She had big brown eyes—like a puppy—so trusting and kind. She loved me." He chuckled softly and looked down at Stranger's black mane, pulling at a section of the beast's hair as if he were imagining it belonged to someone else. "She'd been very young when he burned me, but even so, she'd come to me and lay her head on my chest, petting me and asking if I was going to be okay, if it hurt." He smiled in remembrance. "She was the only thing I wanted to keep living for after I was burned, and I was still just a child." He swallowed and for a moment didn't say anything more. His body swayed slowly with the horse's movements and the wind pushed his hair across his shoulders lazily. I tried not to stare at him, but I was captivated—I wanted to know more about this young, vulnerable Sandor and the sister he loved.

After what seemed like ages he continued, "When I was about eleven years old and she was just seven, she came to me one day crying. Gregor was much older than us, already a man, huge and brutish." He looked sideways at me again with hesitation in his face as if he wasn't sure if he should continue. "He'd asked her to do something to—gratify him. Something vile."

I gasped and bit my lip as I imagined what it might have been. The poor child!

He nodded and looked grim, turning his attention back to the mane of his horse. "She was terrified of him—we all were, really. Even our father. I tried to tell him about what happened, but he brushed me off—said the girl was just making up stories." His fist clenched at his side and when he spoke again, it was with difficulty. "I tried to comfort her, to keep her close by me. I told her she didn't have to do anything like that again, to just run away to me or her nurse and we'd take care of her. But I couldn't always be there." Another long pause and my stomach turned, dreading the ending to the tale. "A few days later I came in from my chores which had me out of the keep for several hours. I'd kissed her that morning, and left her playing in her room. Her nurse was close by, but it didn't matter. No one could stop Gregor when he wanted to do something." His voice was thick and pained, but he swallowed and continued. "He killed her. Said she'd fallen from the balcony, but he'd beaten her to death and everyone knew it."

"Oh, Sandor…," there were tears in my eyes, and I couldn't trust my voice to say more. My heart broke for him. I couldn't imagine a more awful thing to experience as a child.

He shook his head and clenched his fists and jaw again. "Not long after that, Gregor made sure my father died in a 'hunting accident.' I left the same day to be a sworn shield for the Lannisters. I never went back." He cleared his throat and came back around to my original question, fixing me in his gaze once more. "So when I'd watch them beat you—strip you, leave you for dead in the streets—I hated them. I could only think of Ayla and how I hadn't been able to save her." He looked me in the eyes as the tears ran down my cheeks and there was a lifetime of sorrow written in his. "You were innocent, just like she'd been. You didn't deserve that." He looked away. "I couldn't have lived with myself if I hadn't done something."

I couldn't believe this man that everyone called the Hound, the scarred face that sent fear into the hearts of most who looked on him, could have this tender side—this gentle heart that had been broken far too many times by the cruel life he'd lived. I moved my mare closer to him and reached across to rest my hand on his, squeezing it gently. He pulled Stranger to a stop and glanced down at my touch, surprise written in his features at the intimate gesture. Slowly he rotated his hand, taking mine in his large, brown palm, and ran his calloused thumb tenderly across my fingers. When he looked up into my face I saw straight into his soul—there were no walls, no harsh, Hound exterior—it was just the broken man who'd lost everyone he loved to violence, yet still had tried to save me, to spare me more pain. I was struck with feeling for him.

We didn't say anything in that moment; there were no words to express what either of us felt. He held my hand as gently as if it were made of glass, stroking it so tenderly that I was certain he must feel something for me too. Then he fixed me in his gaze and slowly raised my hand to his lips. I inhaled my breath sharply, my mouth falling open as he left the gentlest kiss on my fingers. I felt my cheeks burning at his steady gaze—his sad, brown eyes that bore into my soul, and I looked away, suddenly unsure. Then he smiled kindly and released my hand, not taking his eyes off of me until he moved ahead on Stranger. My mare followed out of habit, and not because I'd told her to, for I was lost to the world, gazing down at my hand and trying to rationalize how on earth I could be falling for the man they called the Hound.

 **-Sandor-**

She was the first person I'd told that story to—the only person I'd ever wanted to tell. It felt right to tell her, as if it were honoring Ayla's memory that I'd shared her with someone I cared for. And I did care for her; there was no point in denying that now. It had come on so slowly that I thought perhaps it had always been there—at least a little bit—yet now the feeling was strong and intense. When I looked into her beautiful blue eyes, the eyes that revealed how she cared about me, I was stricken. Somehow, I'd allowed Sansa Stark to take hold on my heart.

It had been many years since I'd stopped blaming myself for Ayla's death as I'd done for a long time after it happened. I had wanted to be there for her, to protect her always, and I'd failed her. But over time as I grew and learned more of the world, I began to place the blame where it was due. Gregor had killed her, and I hated him for that so much more than I hated him for my own disfigurement. I no longer blamed myself for her death, though I still carried guilt that I wished I'd been there—wished it had been me instead of her.

I shook my head, not wanting to dwell on the painful memory any longer. One day Gregor would pay for what he did to us.

That night when we made camp, the air between me and Sansa was thick with unspoken feeling. There was no doubt anymore that we both wanted the other, though I still couldn't fathom how I could have earned her affection. Yet something still held us back from acting upon our feelings—I wouldn't do anything that she didn't expressly desire, and likely she knew that she could never be with me so wouldn't try to pursue it.

When we finally laid down across from each other to sleep, our eyes met and the sense of longing between us was as encompassing as the darkness of the night.

 **Hi readers, don't forget to leave a review if you like it, I really look forward to them and I love reading each one, they give me encouragement to keep writing. I'm a little bit in love with this story though, lol, so I'm going to finish it regardless, for my own sake.**

 **Tidbit for TV show watchers only, in the books it is mentioned that the Cleganes had a younger sister who died in unusual circumstances. We don't know anything else about her though, so the rest is my fiction. A lot of fans have speculated that Sandor cares for Sansa because of this deep-seated guilt he carries about his sister and what Gregor likely did to her (since Gregor is a kinslayer). I know this was a bit dark, but I felt that it was in keeping with what we know about Gregor's character as a chronic murderer, rapist, and a sadistic fuck.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Ohmigosh you guys I've been wanting to write this chapter all weekend, but I have work on weekends. I finally got it done today, but it's long and the editing took me awhile. I haven't double-checked it yet, but I wanted to go ahead and post it since I'm excited about it. I'll go back and touch up any nagging grammar issues later that bother me ;)**

 **Y'all are the best, don't forget to review and let me know what you're thinking!**

 **~Sansa~**

I thought of little else but Sandor all the next day. His sad childhood, his sister—his awful brother. His kiss. I replayed the moment over and over in my mind, remembering the thrill in my heart when his lips had touched my skin. He wanted me, and not just physically. It made sense now why he'd never tried to hurt me or just take me—why he'd always been there for me, in the capital and now. He cared for me.

And I was starting to care for him, too. I wasn't afraid of the realization, but how could I ever give him what he wanted? My family would never accept a marriage to a man like him. As the daughter of a great house, my marriage would have to be a political tool, used to unite lands and kingdoms. Like my mother before me, I would not have the luxury of marrying for love. Mother always told me that she hadn't loved my father when they'd wed—had hardly known him—but that the love had come in time. I suppose that could happen with whichever lord I was united with.

My thoughts trailed off as I glimpsed a curl of smoke in the distance, wafting into the sky like an airy serpent. Immediately uneasy, I trotted my mare closer to Sandor.

"What do you suppose it is?" I asked, pointing in the direction of the smoke and trying to mask the nervousness in my voice.

"Smoke." He grinned sideways at me and I rolled my eyes.

"Thank you for the clarification," I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm. The horses plodded along slowly side-by-side, and I waited for him to comment further on it. I knew him well enough by now to know that he liked to get in a joke before taking anything seriously.

He frowned a bit as he studied the gray and black column rising into the air. "Seems too much smoke for a cookfire. We're not too far from Harrenhal." There was something unsaid in that sentence and I glanced at him, trying to make out the underlying meaning.

I cleared my throat. "Why is that relevant? What's at Harrenhal?" I tried to act casual, pushing my growing fear to the back of my mind.

He scowled. "Last I heard, Lord Tywin. And where Lord Tywin goes, my brother isn't far behind."

My breath caught in my throat as I thought of the awful possibility of running into a man like the Mountain. "So the smoke is…?" I swallowed, not wanting to breathe life into the dreadful thought.

"Who knows," he responded gruffly. "Last I heard Gregor and his crew were burning whole villages and holdfasts, lighting the Riverlands on fire. We're a bit east for that, but still." His jaw worked and he clenched the reins tighter than usual.

"Should we be riding toward it then?" I glanced nervously about, my stomach tying itself in knots and my heart beginning to race.

"Looks like whatever fire that was there has smoldered by now. Whoever did it will be gone." He looked sideways at me and added. "Even so, stay close to me."

I nodded, feeling weak and clammy, but trying to not show it. We were close enough now to see that it was definitely too much smoke for a cookfire, and within a few minutes, the trees opened up enough to reveal the remains of a ruined structure.

My heart beat loudly in my ears as we approached cautiously, looking about for any signs of current danger. It had been a small building, likely just a farmer's hovel. The horses picked their way slowly around the blackened earth and stones as we assessed the damage. The bit of rubble in the center of the ruin was the source of the smoke, still smoldering with red hot coals, but I hardly noticed it, for in the next moment I nearly shrieked in horror. Hanging from a tree near the burned structure were two bodies—male and female. They were mutilated and gruesome, with flies covering them, and they looked as if they'd already been food for carrion.

I covered my mouth and gasped, the horror and shock washing over me, bringing with it a fresh wave of fear. "No…" I murmured weakly, unable to believe that someone could have done something so awful.

"Don't look, little bird," he said solemnly, moving his horse away from the sight.

I followed, holding my hand over my quavering stomach before asking tremulously, "Who—who do you think they were?"

He shrugged, "Farmers. Peasants. Anyone really. Wouldn't have mattered to my brother, if this was his work. Looks like it." His voice was bitter and coarse, but I could not fault him for it. I hated his brother too in that moment.

"Should—shouldn't we bury them?" It seemed so awful that they'd just been left there, food for crows. They should at least be able to rest in peace.

"We don't have the tools to do it, and it'd be dangerous to stick around. I want to keep moving." He turned back to look at me, and there was both compassion and understanding in his features. "You have a kind heart, but I need it to keep beating." He smiled at me before settling back around in his saddle and urging Stranger away from the ruin into the wood beyond.

My stomach gave a little thrill at his words, but I was more than happy to move away from the awful scene, and followed without reluctance. With one last glance at the corpses, I breathed a prayer to the Stranger, asking him to take the souls away to be at peace.

 **-Sandor-**

I tried not to let on to her how concerned I was after we left the burned hovel. Someone had definitely been there recently—someone who was no friend of ours. If my brother and his men were in this area, we were in danger and I could not be at ease. I cursed silently, wishing in retrospect that we'd followed the coast up from King's Landing, but there was nothing to be done about it now. The only thing we could do was to be on guard and try not to draw attention to ourselves. Hopefully, we could slip through the countryside unnoticed. I tried to ignore the gnawing sense of foreboding that told me I didn't have that kind of luck.

We made camp that night near a small stream, in a spot as secluded as I could find. I tried to keep the little bird's mind at ease, assuring her that all would be well as we watered the horses and ate some supper. Still, I was on edge. I kept my armor on and propped myself up against a tree when she finally lay down to sleep. The horses were left saddled in case there was need to flee, and I would stay awake as long as possible, keeping watch. I was used to sentry duty and had the ability to catch bits of sleep while still in a highly alert state.

I kept my mind occupied with thoughts of her. It was always thoughts of her lately. She'd taken me over, body and soul, and though a part of me was nervous and reluctant to give in to it, another part wanted nothing more than to fall completely at her mercy. Love was a strong word and I'd never felt it before for a woman, so I couldn't say that I knew exactly what it felt like, or whether I'd recognize it. I just knew that I needed to be near her, needed to care for her. I just needed her. Sansa was everything I lived for now.

She must know by now how I felt about her. I wasn't masking my desire anymore, either physically or emotionally—it was too difficult to maintain that façade around her, especially since she made me want to bare my soul. For all the good it would do me. I watched her sleep as I'd done many times now—it was the only time I could gaze at her continuously without interruption. I could study her features, her hair, the curves of her body. I could allow my longing to fill me and my imagination to run wild. My thoughts were my own and there she could be mine.

I leaned my head against the tree and closed my eyes, my forearms resting on my knees as I exhaled my frustration. These thoughts, these desires would only torture me. I could never have her—she knew it as well as I did. She was out of reach for me and always would be.

Something sounded in the distance and immediately I sat up alert, leaning forward slightly to listen. Within a moment I heard it again—movement and the sounds of voices from men on horseback. Shit. I glanced nervously at our mounts where they were hobbled against a tree, hoping against hope that they could remain silent and we would not be found. I didn't want to think about what would happen if we were—I was just one man, one sword, and she was one of the most beautiful women in Westeros. She still slept peacefully beside me, unaware of the approaching danger.

The voices and sounds were getting nearer and I cursed inwardly. They must be tracking us—they must have known we were there. I moved stealthily closer to the little bird and touched her shoulder gently, hoping she would wake up silently. She stirred and blinked her eyes at me, moaning a question until I put my finger against my lips. Her eyes grew wide with fear and she sat up suddenly, looking around frantically for the danger. I slowly and silently drew my sword, peering into the darkness for signs of our enemies as I got to my feet. I didn't have to look for long.

The hoofbeats of their horses grew nearer and in a moment their ominous shapes emerged from the darkness. Ten men or more approached our camp, and several eyes fell immediately on Sansa with lecherous glares and cruel grins. She scrambled to her feet and moved behind me, terror etched in her features. One of the men moved his horse just feet in front of me and called behind him, "Found 'em! And just our luck, it's the Hound."

"Yeah, and what do you want with me?" I growled, my sword extended in front of me in defense. "I'm just passing through these parts, not looking for trouble."

Coarse laughter erupted and one of the men responded mockingly, "Hear that? He ain't lookin' for trouble."

A filthy man in the front with half his teeth missing cocked his head and asked, "Who's that pretty thing you're hidin'?" He glanced at the man next to him with a grin, "Seems he's taken him the prettiest little whore for himself." Edging his horse closer, he leered at Sansa with his mouth open and his tongue moving around in it suggestively.

My blood boiled in my veins, but I had to keep my head. "No one needs to die," I growled. "Leave us be and we'll be on our way."

More laughter. "The Hound doesn't want to kill anyone? That's no fun." More horses moved in around us out of the darkness, and one shape caused my stomach to turn with its unmistakable size. My worst nightmare was being realized. No matter what I did or where I went, he would always come back to take from me—to cause me pain. I hated him with every fiber of my being.

Gregor's voice was like thunder, low and rumbling—threatening. "The little pup is lost in the woods." He swung a huge leg over his horse as he dismounted with a sickening sneer on his face. "Looks like you brought me a present." He eyed Sansa with a lustful glare and I heard her gasp behind me. "Always a dutiful brother." He stepped closer to us as his men began to dismount and follow suit.

I turned slightly to Sansa and spoke with urgency under my breath, "Get to the horses and run!" I heard her scrambling behind me, and then everything happened all at once.

I roared and charged toward my brother, but my attack was preempted by one of his men who fell in on me from the side. I parried and slashed through his shoulder, hearing the sweet crunch of bone and flesh as he fell at my feet. Several men had immediately pursued Sansa, and I moved to stop one of them, swinging my blade and severing one of his legs above the knee. His screams pierced the night and were joined in the next moment by Sansa's as the other men reached her. A shout of rage erupted from my throat, and I took down two more of my brother's men while edging closer to Sansa before they overwhelmed me.

Five men surrounded me and I whirled, frantically searching for an opening, a weakness, before I heard my brother bellow, "Keep him alive. I want him to watch." He moved toward Sansa, and in the next moment my knees were kicked in from behind, and my sword wrenched from my grasp. I struggled and fought, but to no avail. There were too many.

Sansa was shrieking with sobs, kicking and flailing against the men who held her and were groping her in the process. Their hands were down the front of her dress and pulling her skirts up to squeeze her thighs and grab her between her legs. "Leave her be!" I shouted from my knees, my heart twisting in agony at her cries, watching her being assaulted and helpless to stop them. In the next moment my face exploded in pain as one of the men landed a blow to my jaw. My head was spinning, my vision clouding, but still I jerked against them, throwing one to the ground with me. Sansa's cries echoed in my ears and I fought to get to her, but they maintained control over me, subduing me with their weight. One of them procured a rope and I was swiftly bound hands and feet as I cursed and shouted.

Gregor snatched Sansa from the disappointed men by her upper arm and dragged her nearer to me. I was on my knees, my arms bound behind my back and my feet roped together with three men holding me down. I clenched my jaw in rage, my insides coiling at his hands upon her. Her terrified eyes met mine in one horrible moment and I knew I'd failed her. I couldn't protect her just like I couldn't protect Ayla. Gregor grinned down at me menacingly and growled, "This your pretty little woman?" He shoved her in front of him, pulling her hair sideways to expose her neck to him and breathing lustily along her skin. She clenched her eyes shut in a muffled sob and tensed as the tears flowed down her cheeks.

My jaw worked silently and my chest heaved as I glared at him, all of my hatred written in my face. I was afraid to say anything that might provoke him to do worse than I already knew he would do. I was helpless to save her from him, and I hated him for it. I hated myself for it.

His mouth moved close to her ear and he rasped into it, "She's mine now." Sansa choked and writhed in his grasp, begging and sobbing for him to let her go. He reached around and tore her dress open in the front, exposing her breasts in one powerful movement. She screamed and struggled against his hold on her as he whipped her around to face him, fondling her violently with his huge hands. He pressed her body against him as one hand pulled her skirts up and began groping between her legs, ignoring her shrieks and sobs.

"You fucking cunt!" I shouted, choking with rage and struggling against my restraints. "Piece of shit, get your hands off her!" Sansa continued fighting and shoving at him, and she managed to land a blow to his face. His expression twisted cruelly and in the next instant he backhanded her, sending her to the ground, unconscious.

"No!" I shouted, struggling to get to her though I knew it was no use. Her little body lay there helplessly, exposed and violated as he began pulling at his belt, removing his weapons and reaching into his pants to pull his cock free. He moved closer to where she had fallen and went down to his knees, roughing her legs open violently and throwing her skirts up to her waist. She no longer resisted, no longer screamed and everything had grown quiet except the sounds of his scuffling and my struggles.

He had won, again. Taken what I loved from me. My life was nothing but an endless struggle to maintain hope and a will to live after he hurt me and stripped me of everything worth living for. My vision clouded and I roared in helpless, enraged agony as he moved on top of her, squeezing one breast as he positioned himself to take her.

The sound of an arrow embedding itself in leather and flesh broke the relative silence, and one of the men beside me fell to his knees. Shouts of surprise rose up around me and out of the corner of my eye I saw men moving in with swords flashing. More arrows were loosed and Gregor grunted angrily before moving away from Sansa, rearranging his pants and reaching for his weapon. I almost couldn't believe it, and for a moment I just stayed on my knees in shock, trying to process the turn of events.

The men who'd guarded me left to engage in the fight almost instantly—I was still bound, but alone. To my right horses screamed, swords clashed and men shouted. Arrows still whizzed through the air, but I tried to focus. If we were lucky we might get out alive.

"Sansa!" I shouted at her still form, crumpled in the dirt where he'd left her, and prayed she would awaken. I glanced toward our horses where they screamed and pulled at their tethers, but they were unguarded. "Sansa!" I called again, trying to shuffle closer to her against my restraints.

She stirred softly, moaning in confusion and my heart leapt with relief. "Sansa!" I called again, just as an arrow whizzed by her, jolting her back into awareness. She seemed to remember suddenly what had occurred and frantically began hyperventilating and grasping at her garment to cover herself. She looked around in a panic until her eyes fell on me.

"Sansa, cut me free!" I said in a hushed voice, hoping to not attract the attention of the men who fought near us. I glanced quickly to my right and saw Gregor swiping through a man in one blow, just as another man with a flaming sword charged him from behind. I knew that flaming sword; I'd seen it once before. It belonged to Thoros of Myr.

"Sandor!" Sansa choked as she scrambled along the ground to me, eyes wide, drawing my attention back to her. Her hair was full of leaves and dirt and there was a huge red welt on one side of her face. She clenched her dress together in front of her as she assessed my restraints.

"My knife, in my belt! Quickly!" I nodded with my head to where she'd find it and she snatched it out of the sheath, her little white hands shaking violently. She needed both to work the knife properly and I was grateful that common sense won out over her modesty as she released her torn dress and sawed vigorously at the ropes binding me. I couldn't help seeing her naked breasts, but I averted my eyes out of respect for her. I would never be the man my brother was.

In a few moments my hands were free and I snatched the knife from her, moving to the binds at my feet. "Run to the horses, now!" She clutched her dress together once more, glancing over her shoulder at the fight briefly before heeding my instruction. The rope fell away from my ankles and I scrambled to my feet, snatching up my sword from where it had fallen during the fight and ran after her.

One of Gregor's men caught sight of us fleeing and moved to stop me. He charged at me from my left side and I stepped back slightly, allowing him to careen past me as my sword sliced through his back, knocking him to the ground. When I looked up I saw Sansa struggling with her mare, and in an instant I knew it was hopeless. The beast had taken a stray arrow in the side and was screaming in pain and terror.

"Leave her!" I roared, grabbing Stranger's reins and freeing him in a swift movement, before swinging myself into the saddle. Sansa looked unsure for a moment, loathe to leave the mare to die in pain, but she knew how dire our situation was. She only hesitated a moment before she snatched her bag off the saddle quickly and reached up to me with her free hand. Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I pulled her almost effortlessly into the saddle in front of me. "Hold onto me," I rasped, turning my horse abruptly. Her arm reached around me tightly as she sat sideways in the saddle, her face against my chest, her other arm still clenching the fabric at her breast. The battle raged before us between Gregor's men and the Brotherhood Without Banners, but we hardly noticed it. I dug in my heels and Stranger bolted into the darkness.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

We rode all night. I'd never before been more grateful for my horse—for his endurance, intelligence and surefootedness. We couldn't ride hard forever, but he carried the two of us longer than any other beast would have been able, and I patted his mane in appreciation. We had to put as much distance between us and my brother as possible. I would never go through that again—never allow her to be in that situation again.

When I finally slowed our pace to avoid killing my horse, I looked down at the little bird where she was curled up against me. She'd dozed in and out of sleep during the night, never speaking a word. There had been times where she shook against me, trembling violently with sobs, and my heart had ached for her. Now she was silent and still, and I thought she must be sleeping again. I reached down and stroked her hair with one hand, pulling the sticks and leaves from it that had entangled there during her ordeal. She looked up at me and I pulled back slightly, surprised to find her awake. I could just make out the outline of her face in the darkness—there was a glint of tears in her eyes, and streaks on her face where they'd left their trails. Her cheek was swollen and beginning to bruise where that bastard had struck her. My jaw clenched as I allowed the rage to course through me again, fully impressing upon me how much I loathed my brother.

I tucked her against my chest, holding her tightly to me. Nothing would make me let go of her. "I'm sorry, little bird," I whispered against her head, stroking her arm softly with one hand.

She began to shake again, the sobs tearing through her, unchecked and raw. Her moans of anguish tore at my heart, but I let her weep against me—violent, wrenching sobs as I held her and stroked her arm. The images of her struggling against him kept appearing in my mind and I had to force myself to push them away. I'd never endured anything so torturous, yet I could only imagine what it had been like for her. She cried until there was nothing left, but still I held her.

It was nearing dawn—the horizon became more visible every moment—and I was starting to feel as if I couldn't ride another mile when a cultivated field slowly came into view as we crested a hill. Beyond the field I could just barely make out a small hut in the distance.

We were both exhausted and aching—the position in which we were forced to ride had been even more uncomfortable than a usual night spent in the saddle. I didn't care at that point who the farm belonged to, as long as it provided some shelter and relative safety. There would be other people—people who could at least watch out for danger while we chanced some rest. I could offer to pay them.

As we approached the small building, I saw a woman rush inside from where she'd been tending to her animals. A moment later she appeared again, this time behind a man who wielded a pitchfork and pointed it at us as we walked closer on Stranger.

"Hold it right there!" he shouted, trying to appear fiercer than he was. "You're on my land!"

When I didn't respond, his eyes settled on the woman in my arms, torn and beaten, and his face softened.

I pulled Stranger to a stop in front of them and spoke hoarsely. "I won't cause you any trouble, but we were attacked on the road. The men nearly raped my wife." I glanced down at Sansa who had fallen asleep again in my arms, then back at the man. "We just need a place to rest our heads for a few hours. I have coin."

The man and woman exchanged glances and she nodded slightly. He lowered the pitchfork and looked up at me. "Aye, we'll give you some shelter then and no need for payment. These are dangerous times and we'll be happy to help anyone who needs it. Long as you ain't bringing no trouble with you."

I nodded gratefully, and he helped me unhorse while I supported Sansa in my arms. When my feet settled on the ground she stirred and opened her eyes, blinking dazedly at the people who were now ushering us into the small hut.

"Tsk, she's been hurt, poor dear," the woman fussed, glancing repeatedly behind her as she walked, taking in Sansa's ravaged state. She led us to a little room off the main area which was separated by a hanging bit of fabric. The woman pulled it aside revealing a simple straw mattress which lay on the floor and was covered by a blanket. "Lay her down there, I'll bring some wet cloths for her wounds," she said, before she disappeared back into the main room.

I went to one knee and gently laid the little bird onto the bed. Her dress was still clutched together in her hand and I pulled the blanket up over her, allowing her to relax. When her eyes met mine, she smiled weakly and said, "Thank you, Sandor." They were red and swollen from crying, and the bruise on her cheek had turned purple. I stroked her face gently, full of gratefulness that she had been spared the fate that I'd feared she'd meet tonight.

"I need to tend to the horse, but I'll come back after," I said softly, just as the woman returned and rebuked me.

"No need for that, my husband will see to yer horse. You stay here and help her. You both can get some rest, and don't you worry." She carried a bowl of water which she now set on a small table. She reached in with both hands and wrung out a cloth before handing it to me.

"You clean her up and make sure she gets some sleep. We'll give you some privacy." She nodded kindly and backed out of the little room.

I turned back to Sansa and began smoothing the warm, damp cloth across her face, gently cleaning the dirt and tears from it. I tried to move lightly around her bruise, but she still sucked in her breath, wincing at my touch.

I clenched my jaw as I looked down into her face, the face that he'd dared lay a hand on. "One day I'll kill him. I'll make him pay for what he's done."

She put her hand on mine and managed a weak smile as her beautiful blue eyes looked deep into my own. "I don't understand how you can be brothers," she said softly. "You're nothing like him." She reached up tentatively and lightly touched the burned skin on my face.

I pulled away, instinctively—I'd never allowed anyone to touch me there. Her eyebrows contracted, but she persisted, reaching once more and gently stroking the skin. Her fingertips travelled along my scars slowly as she searched my face, and I felt my heart twist again inside me. Her eyes locked with mine once more and she whispered, "You saved me again. Thank you, Sandor."

My throat tightened, but I managed to smile back at her. "Get some rest, little bird." I gently pulled her hand from my face and held it, stroking it tenderly.

She looked down and swallowed, nodding mechanically. She didn't meet my gaze as she asked, "Will you stay with me?" Her hand trembled in mine, and when she looked up, there were tears in her eyes again. "Please?" Her voice broke.

How could I ever resist her? I would give her anything she asked for, now and always.

"Aye, I'll stay with you." I removed my armor and boots and crawled onto the bed behind her. She rolled on her side facing me, and scooted into my chest, still shaking. I put my arm around her and drew her toward me, stroking the top of her head to offer reassurance.

"It's all right, little bird. You're all right now."

It was several long minutes before she'd stopped trembling involuntarily, and once I heard her steady, even breathing, I finally relaxed and closed my eyes. I allowed the gratefulness to wash over me—she'd been spared the rape that I had thought was inevitable and I'd been able to get her to safety. She was in my arms, where she belonged, and I would protect her until the day I died.

"I'll keep you safe," I whispered, as I kissed the top of her auburn head. Then I joined her in sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**~Sansa~**

I started drifting back into consciousness, slowly becoming aware of the fact that I was lying on a soft bed instead of the hard-packed earth and relishing the comfort that it offered my aching body. My eyes blinked open and adjusted to the dim light of a small, warm room. One of my hands was resting against Sandor's chest and it rose and fell steadily as he slept, his warm breath stirring the hairs on my head. I felt a surge of comfort rising in my breast at being near him and a contented smile settled on my face.

A dull pain shot through my cheek when the muscles moved and I quickly brought my hand up to my face, touching the swollen flesh gingerly. Suddenly the events of last night came flooding back into my memory—the vile men, Gregor, and fleeing for our lives. I swallowed and clenched my eyes shut as the memories rushed over me, bringing the terror of those dreadful moments back to the present. Their hands were on me, grabbing me—violating me. Gregor was wrenching my dress open and groping me—the blow from his hand knocking me unconscious. My breath began coming fast as the fear took me over. Had he raped me? I didn't feel any pain between my legs, didn't remember anything happening after he'd hit me, but it was possible. I tried to swallow the little sobs that came fast in my panic, but they choked me and tears began flowing down my cheeks.

Sandor started awake suddenly upon hearing my cries, inhaling deeply, and looking around to gather his bearings. When he realized where we were and what was happening, he pulled me closer into him gently, shushing my cries as he stroked my shoulder.

"It's all right, little bird, you're safe now." His voice was warm and comforting, the familiar rasp vibrating through me and bringing with it a sense of calm. After a few moments, I closed my eyes and willed the memories away, tucking them into a dark corner of my mind forcibly. I shuddered and took a deep, ragged breath, pursing my lips as I let it out in a controlled stream against the rough fabric of his tunic. But I had to know what had happened.

"Sandor, did—," my voice was tiny and weak, but I swallowed and forced myself to continue, "did he—rape me?" I dreaded the answer he would give. I focused on the tiny woven threads of his tunic as I waited for his reply, my heart pounding.

He smiled tenderly down at me. "No, little bird. He—he came close." It was his turn to swallow and he stroked the hair back from my temple as he looked into my eyes. "I thought for sure…" He paused, unable to bring himself to finish the sentence. "I'm sorry I couldn't stop him—I fucking tried, Sansa. I've never been so angry in my life. When he put his hands on you I just—I wanted to rip his head off." He clenched his jaw as he said it, his voice low and hoarse.

I looked up into his face, remembering how he'd fought for me. They'd needed a whole group of men to stop him and three to hold him down even after he was bound hand and foot. He _had_ tried, I had no doubt of that. I remember almost feeling sorry for _him_ in that moment when Gregor's hands were on me—I knew how much it would pain him after what had happened to his sister. My heart swelled with gratefulness to have someone care for me so deeply, so violently. I gave him a weak smile, hoping to reassure him. "It's okay, I ended up all right after all. You still saved me."

He looked unconvinced, letting out a mild scoff, but I knew my words had given him comfort. He moved his large, gentle hand from my hair and wiped the tears from my cheek with his thumb, searching my face with a longing in his deep, brown eyes. "Aye," he said finally. "I would do anything for you, Sansa."

My heart leapt into my throat, but I cast my gaze downward, hardly daring to breathe. He had confessed how he felt for me—not cryptically, not with a sentence that could be construed to mean something, but a genuine admission of the depth of his feeling. I didn't know what I could say in response—I still hadn't been able to process what I truly felt for him and I was confused about my emotions.

He stroked the hair away from my face gently, and though I wasn't looking, I felt him studying my features. I watched his chest rise and fall with each steady breath, feeling my heart pounding in my throat, urging me to say something in response. Slowly I raised my head to meet his gaze and my eyes switched back and forth between his with uncertainty. The intensity of his expression made me catch my breath. His gaze shifted to my mouth—he wanted to kiss me and I found myself hoping that he would. I suddenly wanted nothing more than to be loved by him. It struck me unawares and I was shocked at how clear it became to me in that instant. The sincerity in his eyes revealed the gentle man inside—the good and kind man I'd come to know—and it became apparent to me all at once how much I cared for him.

I searched his face as I gathered courage to speak, to say something in response to his soul-baring confession. "Sandor, I—"

He stopped me, bringing one finger to rest on my lips. "It's all right, little bird, you don't have to say anything." He smiled a little sadly, "I understand the way things are."

I didn't know what he meant by that and I furrowed my brow in confusion, but he had already moved to sit up, breaking our moment of intimacy. My heart fell in disappointment.

Sandor frowned at the window and glanced back down at me, changing the subject. "Seems we've slept for longer than I intended. It must be nearly sundown." He pulled his boots on as I sat up, still clutching the blanket to my breast. I felt dull and empty—unprepared to face another day on the road after having my emotions stirred only to be shut down so abruptly. He stood and pointed to the corner of the room. "They brought our things in, you can change out of that torn dress." With one last longing look into my eyes, he stepped through the flap and left me alone.

 **-Sandor-**

I moved out into the main room of the little hut to find it empty. I tried to push away the nagging, dull pain in my chest that reminded me of what I could never have. I knew that she felt things for me—desire at times, maybe even affection—but she could never bring herself to feel for me the way I felt for her. I'd stopped her from the awkwardness of having to explain why she would never be able to be with me. I already knew—all of our days and nights on the road hadn't made me forget who she was and who I was. She was a great lady and her family expected—no, needed—her marriage for political reasons. The only way to get what I wanted was if I never returned her to her family and I wouldn't do that to her.

I stepped through the door of the building into the golden light of the setting sun, looking about for signs of the people who lived here. In the same moment, the woman came into view around the corner of the house, carrying vegetables in her apron and nearly jumping at the sight of me.

"You—you startled me," she said, not unkindly. She was a young woman, perhaps in her early twenties with a plain, but pleasant face and eyes that looked as if they smiled often. "I was just getting some food ready for supper. I hope you've had a good sleep?" She looked up at me, trying not to focus on my scars, but not fully succeeding.

I nodded, "Yes, we both slept well. I—thank you—" I was never good at showing appreciation, but she waved away my awkwardness, bunching her apron into her other hand.

"Not at all, anyone would have done the same. Excuse me, I need to get this ready." She pointed over my shoulder. "You'll find my husband over there, tending to the goats." She bobbed her head and disappeared into the little house.

I turned in the direction she'd pointed and saw the man near a small shed, sitting on a stool milking a goat. Stranger was hobbled to a post nearby, brushed and unsaddled, contentedly pulling up fresh tufts of grass. I strode toward them, preparing to apologize to the man for overstaying our welcome. Upon hearing my approach, the man glanced over his shoulder briefly before returning his attention to his chore. He was young like his wife, fairly built from the farm work, but still a head shorter than myself. He kept a full beard which made him look older than he probably was.

"Ah, you're up," he said when I'd drawn near, without turning his head to look at me. There was a bit of smile in his voice, and I was grateful that he seemed to be in a friendly mood.

"Aye," I responded to his back where he sat hunched on the stool, steadily milking away. "I lost track of time—apologies, we didn't mean to stay so long." I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly.

"No, never you mind about that. You'd had a terrible long ride by the look 'o yer horse and yer poor woman. 'Taint no trouble to have you sleepin' in a bed we ain't using during the day anyway." He glanced up again at me and there was definitely a smile on his face. He seemed to be very genial. "Pretty one you got there. 'Course I don't look much at any woman since I made Becca my own. Wouldn't trade her for any woman, no, not even a _lady_." He looked at me and raised an eyebrow knowingly, as if he'd meant something behind his seemingly innocent sentence. I cleared my throat uncomfortably, but he continued, standing up to face me.

He assessed me for a moment, seeming to battle with himself internally, before finally speaking again. "I'm goin' to go out on a limb here 'n hope that you'll return our kindness by satisfyin' our curiosity." He narrowed his eyes at me, looking me up and down, before clarifying further. "We're simple farmin' folk and don't mean any harm to you, but we ain't stupid neither. My wife worked as a seamstress in a little shop up in Maidenpool 'fore I met her, and she took one look at that gown your woman had on and knew she weren't no common girl. She told me after you both went to sleep, she says, 'That's fine silk that girl got on, expensive and expertly sewed to her size.' I nodded at her knowingly cause I'd taken yer horse in already and knew him to be a warhorse, also expensive, and your armor ain't no common soldier's armor." I shifted my feet uncomfortably, taken completely off guard and trying to decide what I would need to say in response. He continued, "Last I was in town the news there was that the king's betrothed made out of the capital with his own personal guard—man known as the Hound. Now like I said, I ain't stupid, but I don't have no love for that king neither—none of the townsfolk do. Yer secret is safe with us so I'd ask you to please not bring no trouble here and we'll do our best to help you get her to safety." He looked around as if someone might be listening and lowered his voice. "My wife and I support the Young Wolf—we've been hoping for his victory in this terrible war. Anyhow, even if you were 'fraid of us tellin' someone, we're stuck right here on this farm with you with no way to get word to anyone for miles 'round. So let's all just not do no pretendin' and we'll do our best to help you." He finished his little speech by wiping his milk-covered hand on his breeches before extending it out to me.

Truth be told, I was fairly speechless. Just as he'd said, he _wasn't_ stupid—he'd been right on all accounts. I also knew there was no reason to fear his knowledge—there wasn't any way he could tell anyone until we were already long gone. I didn't much like trusting people, but I remembered how they'd taken us in last night knowing nothing about us—knowing I could've killed them in a heartbeat. They'd been kind and they'd helped Sansa. I wouldn't repay that with cruelty. I nodded and took his hand firmly in mine with a half-grin.

"No, seems you ain't stupid." I shook my head, chuckling. "I told her no one would ever believe she was just a common girl."

The seriousness melted from his face and he grinned, clearly proud of his detective skills. He shoved his hands in his pockets, nodding vigorously, "That's right, I told my wife, I says, "The king's betrothed was Sansa Stark and her father Ned Stark married Catelyn Tully.' Everyone rounds about here knows the Tullys for having striking red hair and blue eyes, just like she had. That and knowin' that the Hound had scars like yers—beggin' pardon—I just knew that you both were who I thought you were." He grinned as he turned to retrieve the pail of milk, leading the goats into their pen for the night. I walked over to give Stranger attention in the meantime, petting him appreciatively and chuckling to myself at the outcome of the conversation.

After latching the gate behind him, he turned back to me and we headed toward the hut together. "Yer welcome to stay on as long as you need to. Only…" he trailed off and looked at me, wondering if he should ask. He liked the sound of his own voice enough, however, so that he only paused for a moment before continuing. "Only we was wondering—she ain't really your wife now—is she?"

I stopped walking and looked down at him. This man had no scruples prying, but his manner was so open and friendly that it didn't really annoy me as it might have otherwise. I shrugged, "No, course not. She's Sansa Stark. But if you're wondering if I'm using her, the answer is no. We were attacked last night by the Mountain and his men—my brother. They tried to rape her and we only escaped because of a skirmish led by the Brotherhood. Still, I've been taking care of her since we left and sleeping near her—she would prefer to stay close to me." I made sure that my tone would brook no argument. I didn't want him thinking he could presume to dictate our interactions. Sansa was mine—even if she wasn't really.

He narrowed his eyes a bit as if he wasn't entirely sure how to respond, but ultimately he nodded and changed the subject onto the wild personality of my horse. The man apparently never stopped talking.

I stepped into the hut behind him—ducking a bit to avoid hitting my head on the frame—and saw Sansa seated at the simple table in her wool gown, her face washed and her hair freshly combed and braided. She smiled shyly at me before turning her attention to the man who finally stopped talking when he realized she was trying to say something.

She cleared her throat daintily. "I wanted to thank you for your hospitality in allowing my husband and I to stay here. I was just telling your wife that it was such a relief to sleep on a bed again. You have been most kind and I'm certain we could never repay you for your goodness to us." She put on such a lovely smile that I rolled my eyes and snickered to myself. She was the worst at portraying a commoner.

"Don't worry, little bird," I chuckled and glanced sideways at the man. "These folks already know who we are. Didn't I tell you it was obvious?" The man deposited the pail of milk in the small cooking area for his wife before seating himself at the table across from Sansa. The little bird's cheeks turned crimson and she looked from my face, to the man, and then to his wife who was cutting vegetables and smiling knowingly.

"I—I um…okay." She stammered, clearly not knowing how to react. The talkative man made up for her silence, taking her hand and bowing slightly over it before introducing himself.

"It's an honor to host you here, milady. I'm Gilbreth, but she just calls me Gil," his head jerked toward his wife who blushed and did a little curtsy, pulling her apron to the side when she dipped. "That there is Becca. Her momma named her Bekalyn, which I think is a real fine name, but she won't let me call her that." He smiled lovingly at his wife who waved her hand dismissively at him and continued chopping vegetables and depositing them into the iron pot.

Sansa glanced at me and I nodded slightly before seating myself on the wooden bench next to Gil. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them again, the pleasant smile returned to her face. "I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell." She held up one graceful hand to me. "And this is my guard, Sandor Clegane—some call him the Hound." She glanced down at the table hesitantly before continuing. "We fled King's Landing during the battle—I was a hostage there and Sandor helped me escape. We are trying to get to the North, to my home," she finished.

Gil whistled and leaned on the table on one elbow. "Good thing you left then. Stannis didn't win no victory—he mighta freed you—though who could say really? No, Lord Tywin came back to the city just in time to save it. They say he had all of the forces of the Reach behind him. Highgarden. City still belongs to the Lannisters."

I raised my eyebrows, though I couldn't say I was terribly surprised, and glanced at Sansa who looked stony. "Of course," she said bitterly. "The terrible ones always survive." She'd basically spoken my thoughts.

Becca's voice chimed in from where she stood near the fire, stirring the pot of food. "Was the king really that terrible then, milady? We've heard stories, but—" she glanced at her husband and left the sentence unfinished.

"Aye, he's a little shit." I answered for Sansa, nodding my head in her direction. "After he took her father's head he forced her to look upon it, calling her traitor and setting his Kingsguard to beat her every time her brother had a victory in the battlefield." Sansa looked down as Becca gasped in horror. Gil just shook his head knowingly.

"Course, what would you expect of an inbred bastard? Me wife and I been hoping your brother will win, but after losing Winterfell, we ain't sure what way the war will turn now." He rubbed his beard thoughtfully.

Sansa stiffened and opened her mouth but no words came. Fuck, she couldn't handle bad news right now. I asked the question for her, dreading the answer for her sake. "What do you mean he's lost Winterfell?"

Becca stepped closer to the table with a little whine of surprise, holding her hands over her mouth. "Oh, gods, Gil, they didn't know! Your big mouth's done it again! Oh, bless her, I'm so sorry, milady!" She moved closer to Sansa hesitantly, unsure of how to offer comfort. Gil raised his eyebrows in shock and began to look very uncomfortable.

"I—beggin' your pardon, milady, I didn't know that you hadn't heard." He swallowed, "I certainly don't want to be the one to have to tell you…" His voice trailed off as he glanced at his wife, hoping he could somehow escape the awkward situation he'd gotten himself into.

Sansa's face hardened and she stood up straighter, showing no emotion. "I have grown used to terrible things happening to me," she said bitterly. "Tell me what's happened to my home," she demanded.

Gil looked down at the table and traced the knots in the wood with his finger, unable to meet her eyes. "They—they say that King Robb's right hand man did it—the Greyjoy lad that was your father's ward at Winterfell." He cleared his throat, glancing at his wife again before continuing, "He betrayed him—took his father's men to Winterfell and sacked it when it was unguarded." Becca looked at her husband with anguish in her face, waiting for him to finish with the worst of it, but he hesitated.

"And my brothers?" Sansa asked through gritted teeth.

Gil looked down again and shook his head. When he spoke it was hardly above a whisper, "They—they say he killed them."

Becca moved to Sansa, placing a hand tenderly on her shoulder in sympathy. "I'm so sorry, milady. We never dreamed that you didn't know of it."

Sansa's face hadn't changed expression or even registered the news at all. She merely looked slowly at each of us in turn. "Thank you for telling me," she said without intonation. "Please excuse me." She stood and moved to leave the house.

"Sansa," I rasped, standing up from the table and reaching for her hand. She shied away from me, refusing to meet my gaze, and shook her head mutely before disappearing out of the door.

I stepped toward it intending to follow her, but Becca stopped me, placing a hand gently on my forearm. "Let her go, ser. She'll need time," she said kindly, glancing at her husband for support. He nodded and stood up as well.

"Aye, she'll be safe enough out there, just give her some privacy. She'll need to grieve. Terrible business, that is. 'Tween you and me, they say that Greyjoy burned the lads' bodies to a crisp and hung 'em over the gate." He shook his head sadly. "The King in the North sent one of his bannermen to retake the castle, but it's been burned. Who knows what'll happen now?" He sounded almost absurd, a simple farmer somehow highly invested in the politics of Westeros.

I glanced at the doorway feeling helpless and full of sympathy for the little bird. Could she never escape her suffering? I wished I could protect her from the pain, but no matter how I cared for her, I was still powerless to protect her from the burden of grief that life continually heaped upon her small shoulders. I ached to make it better, but I knew they were right. She needed time. I sat back down on the bench resignedly, and Gil tried to change the subject.

"Well, how 'bout that stew, Becca? Me stomach could use some settlin' now after that unpleasant business. Seven save us, to think I'd have to give news like that to Winterfell's own daughter." He talked without stopping until it was time to turn in for the night.

 **~Sansa~**

The next two days felt like a strange dream. After the initial shock of the news and the flood of grief that overwhelmed me at losing my little brothers and my home, I began to close up to the pain. I couldn't handle it—couldn't bear the weight of sorrow day and night—so I pushed it away just as I did with all of the trauma and pain that I had already endured. Sandor was very kind to me, as were the young couple, and all felt that Sandor and I should stay at least for a few days to give me time to recover. I was grateful that they didn't revisit the subject again after that first night. I didn't want to discuss it.

Gil and Becca had insisted that we continue sleeping on their bed—I was the lady of Winterfell after all and they were honored—but I'd learned upon my first conversation with Becca that she was with child and I absolutely refused to take her bed. I assured them after much persuasion that any accommodations were wonderful compared to the forest floor, so they reluctantly allowed me to sleep on the floor of the main room, cushioned with straw and an extra blanket—with Sandor beside me. I found that I couldn't sleep without him near me. The nightmares alternated between reliving our experience with Gregor's men and visions of my home burning—my little brothers dying. I would jolt awake suddenly with tears on my face, trembling with fear, but he would always be there to comfort me.

In my waking hours, the emotions were like a wave inside of me—one moment I'd be despairing, filled with sorrow at the loss I'd endured, and the next I would thrill at his look or his touch. It seemed wrong somehow to allow myself to feel any pleasurable emotion when I'd lost something so dear to my heart, so I was in a constant state of turmoil, guilt, and confusion.

On the third evening since we'd arrived at the house, I had gone out walking in the distant fields. I was able to be alone now in the relative safety of the secluded farm—something I hadn't been able to do at all since our journey began. I had grown used to Sandor always being with me. Not that I minded being in his constant company—to the contrary, since I'd grown fond of him, I loved being near him—but sometimes I appreciated time with just myself and my thoughts. Time to mourn. I even mourned my little mare who'd died so horribly and alone.

Sometimes I felt as if it was my destiny to suffer—payment for my sins of flightiness and selfishness as a girl. I'd always only thought of what I wanted, what would make me happy, with little regard to what I already had—family and love and safety. And in my selfishness I'd gone to the Queen and told her of my father's plans to return to Winterfell. It had all been my fault that he'd been arrested in the first place. How I'd tortured myself with guilt those first few months after his death. And now I felt as if I was being repaid for my sins by losing everyone and everything I loved.

The sun was setting, and when I reached the crest of the little hill, I could see far beyond—miles of hills and fields to the east. My shadow stretched out before me, dancing on the tall, waving grasses in the field below me. I closed my eyes and let the wind caress me gently, lifting my hair and skirts in carefree abandon. Being in the wild of nature had a way of bringing me peace like nothing else did, and I was grateful for the moment to bask in the beauty of the view before me and forget my pain for a moment.

After several long moments of breathing in the crisp, evening air, I sighed contentedly and turned about, looking for the little house in the distance from whence I'd come. Instead, I noticed the man approaching me. He was tall and strong—the setting sun at his back sent his shadow far in front of him, but it also seemed to make him glow. His hair looked as if it was on fire and I shuddered to think that it once had been. He strode up the hill toward me, the tall grass reaching past his knees and I was struck with how handsome he was. I had grown to love his face—even the scars that reminded me that he had suffered just as I had. The wind whipped at his tunic, pushing it tight against one side of his body and billowing it out on the other, so that his form was completely outlined on his left side. He was everything I wanted in a man, I realized, as he drew closer to me. Physically, he was well-built and desirable, but it was his soul that I truly admired. He was kind and gentle, brave for certain—even funny, though he was a bit coarse. Yes, he was exactly what I'd look for in a husband. My pulse quickened as he drew near—the familiar ache in my chest reappearing as I admired him.

His eyes locked with mine when he'd reached me and he smiled, melting my heart and making my knees feel weak. "Sandor," I said simply, returning the smile with a little blush. Since I'd accepted my true feelings for him, I'd become bashful around him again, blushing easily and dropping my eyes from his gaze.

"What are you doing out here, little bird?" He asked in his familiar rasp, gentle as it always was when he spoke to me. He drew nearer until he was just an arm's length from me, looking down into my eyes with unconcealed admiration.

"Just—just walking," I stammered, looking down at the lone wildflower in my hand that I'd been twiddling absentmindedly for the past twenty minutes. I turned and started walking again, this time with him by my side, back toward the farm.

"You seemed to be enjoying the solitude. Did I disturb your peaceful moment?" I could hear the smile in his voice, but I knew he was partially serious. I'd had a difficult few days.

I laughed softly, "No, you didn't disturb me. You know I enjoy your company." I glanced sideways at him, smiling shyly again, and twirled the flower between my fingers.

He seemed affected by my comment, but didn't respond to it. I suddenly wanted to renew our conversation from days before—the one he'd ended so abruptly.

"Sandor?" I asked timidly, stopping and turning about to face him. He didn't rotate to me fully, almost as if he was avoiding facing the inevitable discussion head-on.

He looked down at me over his shoulder. "Hmm?" He was trying to act casual, but I knew I had discomfited him.

I took a deep breath and forced the words out. "That first night we were here—after we woke up—what did you mean when you said you know how things are?" My heart was beating wildly, but I wanted to revisit the subject—I craved intimacy with him.

He sighed and looked a bit frustrated, turning to face me fully and looking down on me more gruffly than he'd done in a long time. He studied my face for a moment before responding. "You're a lady, the daughter of a great lord and I'm the Hound—a fugitive bodyguard for a shit king with a price on my head. If I can return you safely to your family, they'll give me a reward and send me on my way. That's how things are." There was bitterness in his voice, but also an underlying sadness.

I furrowed my brow in concern. "No, Sandor, I couldn't let that happen. I wouldn't. I—" I faltered under his gaze, but managed to look up into his eyes and finish my confession. "I care for you."

I heard him catch his breath and his eyes searched mine questioningly, as if he was trying to work out if I had truly meant it. Then his expression hardened and he clenched his jaw. "Aye, and what does it matter? I still could never be with you." I glimpsed his hands gathering into fists as he looked away from me.

My heart broke at his reaction to my sincere expression of my affection for him. Deep down I knew he was right—I knew that there was always the question of how it would ever work out for us—but I wasn't thinking about that right now. Right now it was just me and him, and he hadn't reacted how I'd hoped he would. I was crushed.

My face hardened bitterly and I responded with feigned indifference. "You're right. It doesn't matter." I discarded the flower at his feet and turned away abruptly, tears stinging my eyes as the little house in the distance swam in my vision.

He grabbed my arm suddenly, before I could leave, and pulled me back to him, whirling me around to face him again. I gasped and put my hand on his chest as I looked up at him in surprise, blinking away the tears that hadn't yet spilled. He took my face in both of his hands, looking briefly into my eyes before his gaze travelled to my lips. Slowly he lowered his head closer to mine, hesitating for a moment as his eyes flicked back up to meet my gaze. My breath left my mouth raggedly as my heart seemed to stop—the hair on his face touched my skin as his lips hovered above mine. And in the next moment he kissed me.

Never had I felt anything so wonderful. When his lips touched my own I let out a soft whine and melted into him, wrapping my arms around his neck and opening my mouth to his. He slipped one hand to my waist, pulling me into him, and wrapped the other behind my head as he kissed me—gently, yet passionately. I felt the warmth of his body radiating against mine and I almost couldn't breathe—yet I never wanted to separate from him. I loved him.

He drew his hand around to my cheek, caressing it with his thumb as he slowly pulled his lips from mine, breathless. His forehead rested against my own and our breaths came fast and erratic from the sudden and intense release of passion. I held his face with one hand as he searched my eyes and rasped, "It matters, Sansa."

My heart soared and I slid my hands around his neck once more, stretching up on my toes to kiss him again. I covered his mouth with mine, pulling him into me and tasting him passionately. My tongue danced with his and I moaned into his mouth as a burning sensation began in my lower body. I never knew a kiss could feel like this—that it could be so incredibly consuming and overwhelming. His hands grasped my hips and held me against him, his intensity heightening with each moment in my embrace.

After a moment he pulled away from me, releasing a ragged breath. "I can't—," he put distance between our bodies, and moved his hand up to caress my cheek. "I want you, little bird. I can't hold myself back if you do that to me." His chest heaved as he fought to regain his composure, closing his eyes briefly and exhaling a controlled breath.

I bit my lip. He always had to be the voice of reason. I wanted him, wanted to be his, but I knew I couldn't have him. It would possibly be a death sentence for him and I'd be the shame of my family. I pulled away with a frustrated sigh and nodded, my pulse slowly returning to normal. But how could I ever truly return to normal after that experience?

He took my hand in his and lifted it to his lips, looking into my eyes as he did so. "I came to tell you supper is ready, _my_ lady." My heart thrilled at his intonation, emphasizing that I was his—at least, as we saw it. I smiled and took his offered arm as we walked back together to the little house.

 **As always, thank you for your reviews and follows. I had such a difficult time on this chapter, and I'll probably still play with the grammar, but I wanted to get it up.**

 **Also, the reference to Sansa's guilt about betraying her father's plans is a book reference, which actually makes a lot more sense when you watch the show with that knowledge. Otherwise Cersei just seems to magically have the upper hand on Ned. Anyway. Review! :D**


	9. Chapter 9

**I wanted to go ahead and publish this tonight, even though I've only done one edit. I'll go back through tomorrow and fix anything I need to :)**

 **~Sansa~**

After supper, I joined Becca in her little room to wash away the grime of the day with a sponge bath. Apparently common people rarely took full baths, and after I'd inquired about getting clean the first day, Becca had explained to me how they would get a pail from the barrel of rainwater and sponge the water and soap over themselves. Under normal circumstances, she and her husband would just do it outside, as the men were now doing, but for additional privacy, she allowed me the use of her bedroom to get clean. It was the second sponge bath for me since our stay at the little farm, and I was a bit more prepared for it this time. It wasn't uncomfortable for me to be naked in front of other women—to the contrary, I was very accustomed to having my maids assist me with dressing and bathing—but I'd initially felt unsure about the strange, new way to bathe. This evening I was just ready to be clean.

Becca offered me a hand in unlacing my dress and I accepted gratefully, pulling my long braid aside and working the hair loose as she undid the laces. After stepping out of it, she took the garment and ran her hands across the bodice admiringly. "Your stitching is very fine, milady. Who taught you to do it so well?"

I blushed at her praise as I stepped out of my smallclothes and moved to the rushes in the corner of the room where the bucket of water and block of soap was already laid out. "Thank you, Becca, that's very kind. My septa taught me—and my mother as well." I picked up the cloth and began running the cold water along my shoulders and arms, sucking in my breath sharply as the gooseflesh raised all along my skin. "But there wasn't much I could do properly with that torn dress, it still looks awful. I just sewed it back together because I needed more than one." The water ran down my naked body in rivulets into the rushes and earthen floor beneath.

She laughed softly as she laid the gown aside. "Aye, there's not much to be done with such an uneven tear like that, but still your work is very good. I don't think I would have done half so good a job with it." Then her face grew a little serious and lines of compassion appeared around her eyes. "I'm very sorry you had to experience something like that, milady. You must be very brave."

I forced a smile and shook my head as I ran the freezing cloth quickly across my abdomen. "No I wasn't very brave…I just screamed and cried until he knocked me unconscious." Becca's brow knitted in sympathy. "Sandor was brave." I smiled in remembrance, my skin tingling at the thought of him, and not from the cold this time.

"Would you like help to wash your hair, milady?" Becca asked, and I nodded, thanking her. She scooped several cups of water over my head and then began working the soap through it, massaging with her fingers. "I'm not surprised he was brave," she said after a moment. "I've seen how he looks at you." She let the sentence hang in the air and I caught my breath, turning my head slightly in her direction.

"What do you mean?" I tried to sound casual and unconcerned, but my pulse quickened.

She handed me the block of soap and began rinsing my hair. "Milady…"

"Please, call me Sansa," I reminded her gently.

"Of course, I'm sorry, the habit is difficult to drop. Sansa, then." She finished rinsing and turned my shoulders slightly so she could look into my face. "You know Sandor is in love with you?" There was a knowing look in her eyes and she smiled almost motherly at me.

I colored and looked away from her gaze. Was there nothing that these people missed? Still, I'd been alone for so long, with no one to confide in—no mother or sister to share my heart with. I craved her friendship and her confidence. Slowly I lifted my eyes back up to hers and nodded reluctantly. She rinsed her hands, drying them on her apron, before moving back across the room and seating herself on a small stool.

"Please, if I'm pryin' too much, just tell me so and I'll stop." She tilted her head a bit, "You care for him too?"

I ran the soap along every limb and crevice of my body, trying to determine how much I should reveal to her. When I finally met her gaze, I sighed and nodded again, feeling the blush on my cheeks once more. "I do," I almost whispered.

She smiled kindly. "There's nothing to be ashamed of, Sansa. He's a fine man. It's a very lucky thing to have a man be so devoted and protective of you." She stood again and walked across the room for a thick cloth to dry my body. "Would you ever consider marrying him?"

I gasped as I poured the cold water over my skin to rinse it. Had I ever truly considered it? "I—I don't know," I stammered, pouring the last cup over myself and reaching for the cloth she held out to me. When I met her gaze again, it was both inquisitive and prodding, so I continued. "My—my family will make me marry a lord. I'll need to wed a great house to cement political interests," I managed, running the cloth over my skin to absorb the water.

"Hm, maybe so." She mused, then raised her brows a bit. "But right now you are alone, with full control over your life for once." She picked up my undergown which I'd been using for sleep since I'd been in her home, and brought it to me. "The thing about marriage in the Faith of the Seven is that it's fairly permanent—once it's been consummated." One side of her mouth raised in a mischievous grin.

I must have looked as shocked as I felt, for she laughed and moved back to sit upon the stool. "Forgive me, I may not have the best advice. I was never one to follow the rules much. Gave me poor mum a difficult time." She sighed and shook her head, then grew serious again, meeting my gaze. "But at the end of the day, you have to choose which is more important to you—to live a life with a man who loves you, a man who would do anything for you—or do your duty to your family and your house." She clasped her hands in front of her and tilted her head. "You're a very beautiful woman, Sansa. All the great lords will fight to wed you, and not just because you'd be a powerful ally. Were you not already betrothed to a powerful lord? A Prince?" She raised her eyebrows, impressing the point upon me.

I did up the simple laces on the undergarment as I let her words sink in. Did I care more about duty to my family, or following my heart? I sighed and began drying my hair with the cloth. "I know—and you're right. I—I just don't know yet, Becca." I met her gaze, allowing the worry that I felt to be shown on my face. "I'm afraid to bring shame to my family. They're in the midst of war."

She arched one brow. "Your brother married for love, you know."

I gasped. "What! He's married?"

She lifted one hand in exasperation. "Goodness, I'm sorry again, Sansa. I'd have mentioned it before except I didn't realize you didn't know. Yes, he married a common woman—a nurse from his war camp, from what the people say. Married for love." She smiled at me. "Anyway," the young wife stood and moved toward me, taking my hands in hers. "I'm afraid your mother would be very upset with me for poisoning your mind like this, but you've been through so much, dear. I think you should have a chance to be happy too." She squeezed my hands. "Just think on it. You two are very sweet together." She smiled kindly and stepped out into the main room.

 **-Sandor-**

The cold water was exactly what I'd needed to shock the desire out of my system. Fuck me, I'd kissed her! I couldn't believe I'd done it—I'd wanted to for so long and it had been everything I thought it would be. She was intoxicating. The feeling of her exquisite body pressed against mine, the taste of her sweet mouth—it'd driven me mad with desire and it became all I could manage just to keep myself from claiming her there in the field.

And she cared for me—I didn't guess at it anymore, she'd actually said the words. The memory of her sweet face as she'd confessed it caused my heart to swell inside my chest. It was too much to hope for, and yet it was true. If nothing else happened between us, I'd always have the knowledge that she cared for me—no one could take that from me. I tried not to think about how I would manage sleeping beside her tonight. It would be a hundred times more difficult now than it already had been.

When I entered the darkened house after washing up, I glimpsed the outline of her feminine form already reclined on our makeshift bed in her little thin undergarment. Dammit. She looked shyly up at me and smiled as I approached, moving aside a little to allow me to lay down beside her. The sliver of moonlight passing through the window and under the door was the only light in the room, and my pulse quickened as the memory of our kiss flashed through my mind. I removed my boots and crawled onto the blanket beside her, trying to pretend that everything was the same as it had been all the nights before.

"You smell clean, little bird," I rasped, propping my head up on my elbow.

She smiled and rolled over to face me, lying with her head on her arm. "So do you," she whispered with a little giggle, "finally." She rolled her eyes, grinning mischievously.

"Oh," I chuckled quietly. "You're very funny. Think you're so clever, do you." I whispered, raising my eyebrows in a little taunt.

She continued giggling under her breath, nodding her head. "Mmmhmm, I am clever, thank you for noticing." She looked into my eyes playfully, "I remember a time when you wouldn't have thought so." She bit her lip, waiting for my retort.

I laughed under my breath, trying to keep quiet so as not to disturb the couple in the other room. "You'll never let me forget that, will you?" I asked hoarsely, looking down into her laughing blue eyes that twinkled in the moonlight.

"Never," she whispered, grinning up at me.

The room grew silent as our eyes searched each other. I smiled contentedly down at her and she returned it—neither of us moving or speaking, just staring. I could hear Gil's loud breathing from the other room, and the crickets outside singing to each other. The intimacy we'd shared only a couple hours earlier hung between us like an unspoken question—would it change our interactions or would we pretend that everything was the same as it had been before? She inhaled a deep breath and held it, fixing her gaze on me intensely.

We moved as one—suddenly and without warning—both reaching for the other in the same moment as our lips met breathlessly. I leaned down over her, claiming her mouth with my own and reaching my hand across her body to take hold of her waist and pull her closer to me. She grasped my upper arm with her fingers, digging into the flesh as she arched beneath me, moaning into my mouth. The blood rushed hot through my veins, stirring arousal in me as I pressed her head into the straw, exploring her mouth and reveling in the taste of her.

After several intense moments of kissing her passionately, I pulled back, sucking gently on her lower lip as she let out a ragged breath and gazed at me with wide eyes full of desire. My hand moved up the side of her body slowly and she shuddered as I left a trail of kisses along her cheek, moving to her long, slender neck. I hunched over her, my head buried in the curve of her neck as I traveled along the delicate skin with my mouth, eliciting small, suppressed moans from her lips. When my hand trailed slowly along the side of her breast she arched and sucked in a breath. "Ohhh, Sandor," she whispered breathlessly.

Seven hells, I wanted to pull her skirts up and make love to her now—to fuck her until she screamed my name. I ran my thumb along the outline of her raised nipple, squeezing it between my thumb and forefinger as my cock flexed and pressed against her thigh. She squealed quietly and pulled my face back down to hers to muffle her sounds as she kissed me again. Her hands pulled my body closer to her and her hips arched up into me. For a woman who'd never been intimate before, she was incredibly attuned to her body, allowing her natural desires to dictate her movements unreservedly. Intimacy came naturally to her, and she was almost irresistibly seductive.

"Sansa," I rasped in her ear as I moved my hips against her thigh, ensuring she could feel what she was doing to me. "If we do this, your family may never accept it—never accept us…" I trailed off as I allowed my hand to explore her body through her dress, moving down her hips to run along her thigh.

She grasped the top of my hand and I was unsure if she was encouraging my exploration or restricting it. "I know," she panted, her breast rising and falling rapidly beneath me. "Just—just don't take my maidenhead and they'll never know." She squeezed my hand and pushed up again into me, covering my mouth with hers and dragging my hand along the side of her leg, bringing the fabric up with it.

I pulled away from her kiss momentarily, almost chuckling. "What?" I looked into her eyes and saw that she was serious. "Dammit, woman, how much restraint do you think I have?" I gripped her thigh and bared my teeth at her, hoping to impress upon her how difficult she was making it for me.

"Mmmm, but Sandor, I want you," she whispered breathlessly, squeezing my shoulder with one hand and cupping my face with the other.

I kissed her pouting mouth again and bit her lower lip gently as I pulled away. "Aye," I growled, "and I'm sure you can tell how much I want you." She'd likely have a bruise where my hard cock was pressing into the outside of her thigh, and she blushed a bit, looking away from my gaze. I knew she wasn't ready to make the decision that would potentially sever all ties from her family, so I forced myself to stop advancing, as difficult as it was. I kissed her once more before pulling away, lying down next to her with my head upon my arm.

She raked a hand through her hair with a frustrated sigh, biting her lip and closing her eyes, before turning to face me again. "So what do we do now then?" She whispered, "Just pretend there's nothing there?" She knitted her brows in annoyance and reached out a hand to stroke my arm longingly.

"I could never pretend that, little bird." I brushed the hair back from her temple with my thumb. "You know how I feel about you—you know I'd make you my own in a heartbeat." Her gaze fell from mine bashfully. "But you've already endured so much loss—I won't let you lose your relationship with the last of your family for me."

She sighed and wiggled closer to me, resting her forehead against my chest. "I know," she whispered. "But that just makes me want you more." Her fingers drew little circles absently on my tunic. "You're too good, Sandor."

I scoffed and put my arm around her, pulling her closer to me. "Never heard that said about me before." I chuckled softly and kissed the top of her head. "Get some rest, little bird. Let the future figure itself out."

She nodded slightly and I heard her sigh again. "We should keep moving north," she said finally, after a long moment of silence.

I'd been thinking the same, and was relieved that she'd brought up the topic so I didn't have to. "Aye," I said quietly. "If you're ready."

"I am," she responded with only a moment's hesitation. "Tomorrow." She nestled her head into me, getting comfortable for the night.

I stroked her head affectionately, content to hold her in my arms now, whatever the future might have in store for us. "All right. We'll leave tomorrow."

 **~Sansa~**

I squeezed Becca's hands and kissed the air by her cheek, thanking her once more for their hospitality and her kindness to us. She smiled back at me, with a little knowing raise of her eyebrows as she glanced at Sandor who was shaking Gil's hand. I tried to suppress the smile that rose bashfully to my cheeks.

"You both are welcome anytime wherever I am, Becca. I will always try to return the kindness that you have shown us here. If we ever retake Winterfell, you must come and visit someday. You will stay in the castle as my honored guests." I smiled affectionately and hugged my new friend once more.

When I pulled away, she nodded and smiled again, giving my hands one final squeeze and wishing us safe travels. Sandor had already mounted and our sacks were tied to the saddle, along with an extra bag of food from our hosts. He reached down to assist me onto Stranger, seated in front of him, and this time I rode with a leg on either side, rather than sideways which had been quite uncomfortable. Gil put his arm around his wife's shoulders and prattled on about the best way to get to Maidenpool and who to send his greetings to once we got there. I smiled politely and waited until he was finished before bidding them both farewell. Then we set out through the open fields once more as Gil and Becca waved us off.

It was early morning, just a little after sunrise, and I was excited at the prospect of getting closer to my family. I may not be able to meet them at Winterfell, but once we reached White Harbor, a raven could be sent to mother to let her know of my safe return to the north. Maidenpool was not more than a day's ride away, and we hoped to reach it by nightfall. I said a prayer to the Mother to protect us on our journey, hoping we wouldn't encounter any more trouble as we had with Gregor's men.

We hadn't been riding for very long before I began to notice that the position I was sitting in was different than when I'd been on my mare. It was cramped with two of us in the saddle and I was pushed to the very front of it—the part where it curved back up slightly—and the motion of the horse was rubbing me in a very specific way. I was no stranger to my own body and I knew that if I rubbed that one little nub between my legs just right, it would begin to feel very pleasurable, ending eventually in a rush of ecstasy that would leave me tingling and shaking.

I bit my lip, trying not to focus on it, but it was pressing in just the right spot. It became more and more difficult to ignore as the sensation heightened. Sandor was very close to me, his body pressed against my back, and that only made it worse. I shifted and squirmed, so that eventually he looked down at me and asked what was wrong.

"I'm just—ahh—trying to get in a better position." My voice was already shaky and I sucked in my breath sharply. I tried to move back again, rubbing the curve of my backside against his groin as I attempted to put greater distance between the saddle and my sensitive womanly place.

He groaned and grabbed my hip with one hand, "Don't do that, little bird." He rasped in my ear, allowing his lips to brush the skin of my neck just beneath it and I shuddered with pleasure. "You might not be prepared for the consequences."

"I-I'm sorry," I gasped, placing my hand on his thigh and squeezing hard. "It's just—the way I'm sitting is—ahhh," my sentence ended in a desperate little whine as I closed my eyes and let my head rest back on his shoulder, clenching the saddle horn with one hand and still gripping his leg with the other.

Understanding seemed to come over him then. "Oh? Is it an uncomfortable position?" He asked suggestively and I began to feel a hardness pressing into my lower back. He reached around and drew his hand along my thigh as his mouth trailed down my neck, kissing and sucking until I was shaking.

"N-no, not uncomfortable," I gasped, my breathing intensifying as the pleasure heightened in my body, the sensation shooting through my limbs. His sexual attention was only making it accelerate faster. He reached around and gripped my chin in one hand, turning my face up to take my mouth with his. I whined breathlessly, exploring his mouth with my tongue in my state of heightened sensuality. His other hand had forgotten the reins, leaving Stranger to plod his own way through the open fields, and he squeezed my inner thigh before dragging his hand up to cup my breast.

I gasped and arched under his touches and the constant pressure on my woman's place that shifted methodically with each step the horse took. He pulled my hair to one side and began paying attention again to my neck as he used his hands to explore every curve of my body. My pulse was racing, my breath coming more and more quickly as the pleasure intensified. I knew I was close. I could feel his manhood hard against my lower back and that knowledge was driving me wild. What would it feel like when it filled me completely? I had a sudden urge to touch him and I reached around, grabbing his thigh once more before sliding my hand up to feel the outline of him through his breeches.

He sucked in his breath suddenly, letting out a growl and squeezing my breast hard. "Fuck, little bird, you can't do that to me." He bit down on my neck, and I moaned in pleasure, but I didn't want to let go yet. I clenched my teeth and wrapped my hand around the shape in his pants feeling as if the pleasure would overtake me any moment. Gods he was huge. He groaned into my neck, the vibrations from his throat moving through my skin as the sensation in my lower body became more and more overwhelming. He moved his hand to my chest and slipped it suddenly under my gown, taking my whole breast in his hand and squeezing.

I gasped and whined simultaneously, releasing his manhood as the burning sensation in my lower region swept me over the edge of ecstasy. The warmth of his hand covering the bare skin of my breast was electrifying, and he squeezed my nipple as the pleasure washed over me. I whined and moaned, grabbing my neck and arching my head back into his shoulder as my orgasm faded. It left me feeling weak yet incredibly satisfied. He slipped his hand from my breast as I panted, leaving several small kisses along my neck. I took a deep breath and exhaled it in a shudder, trying to regain my composure.

"Fuck, that was sexy." He rasped into my ear, biting the lobe gently and pulling. He was still hard, still pressing into my back. I smiled and turned my face to him feeling a little shy, but less than I had been before I'd grabbed him.

"I've never had that feel so incredible before," I said, biting my lip as I squeezed his thigh again and looked into his eyes seductively.

"We only just left and I already want to throw you down in this field and take you," he bared his teeth and grabbed my hips, pulling me against his erection forcefully. Part of me wanted him to do just that—it would be so much simpler if he made the decision for me, since I was so torn. I had thought about what Becca said, had thought about what I felt for him. I would marry him, would give myself to him if only I could know for sure that my family wouldn't reject me or hate me for it.

I felt like teasing him and I raised my eyebrows, tilting my head with a shrug. "No, thank you for the offer, but I'm feeling all right now. My desire has been fairly well satisfied." I picked up Stranger's reins and straightened my shoulders, casting a mischievous glance sideways at him with a suppressed grin.

He laughed loudly and squeezed my hips, "Is that so? You're the worst, did you know that?" He chuckled and kissed my cheek affectionately. "What am I going to do with you?"

 _Marry me, hopefully,_ I answered mentally. Out loud I just said, "Well, for now you just have to put up with me. At least, until you get me to White Harbor. I'll see if I still have need of you after that." I giggled and he scoffed good-naturedly.

"I'll stick around in case you need to borrow me and my horse again for your own pleasure ride," he drawled, and I imagined that his eyes would be rolling if I could see them.

 **The inspiration for this sexy scene was from the last time I went horseback riding, cause, holy shit I know why ladies rode side-saddled now. Course, I didn't have Sandor Clegane behind me so it didn't end the same way, but this was totally believable for me which is why I wanted to write it. There's no way it wouldn't happen to me if I were in that situation, lol! Sorry, TMI.**

 **Keep the feedback coming, I always love to read it! This story is a lot of fun for me :D**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey guys, I'm sorry it's taken me awhile to update (well, awhile by my standards). I'm in the event industry so Halloween is huge for me. Bear with me until November, it'll be tough to find time for this. Also I was a little stuck on where I was going in the story, but hopefully I've worked that out. Please continue favoriting and reviewing! If you're new to my story, leave me a little note, I love to see who's reading! :D**

 **-Sandor-**

I glared at that cunt with all the hatred of a lifetime of dealing with men like him. He looked at Sansa as if he had some right to her—some license to take her hand and smother it with his pretty boy lips, just because he was a fucking lord.

I clenched my fists and took a step toward him, my hulking frame towering over his. "And just who the fuck do you think you are?" I growled, uncaring of the other patrons of the inn who glanced nervously at each other and shifted in their seats. Some even quietly stood and slinked out of the building to avoid impending violence. The handful of men who flanked the apparent lord turned their attention to me, taking a stance that signaled preparedness to fight and reaching for their weapons. Sansa was blushing—fuck that guy—and looking nervously at me as if she were trying to determine what to do about the sudden change of circumstance.

We'd arrived in Maidenpool less than an hour ago and had only just entered the inn before we were set upon by the men who now stared us down. They'd sauntered in, ten or so, with the sigil of some lesser house sewn on their jerkins, heading directly toward us. Immediately I had stepped in front of  
Sansa, shielding her from the unknown danger approaching, before I noticed the gray direwolf of Stark, borne on a banner which was carried by one of the men. Ignoring me, they'd approached Sansa, with the pretty fucker going to his knees at once and taking her hand. He declared himself to be sent by her brother—that after Robb had learned of Sansa's escape, he'd sent men to all the cities and castles where he thought Sansa might ride, with the hopes of bringing her back safely before the Lannisters captured her. The only information they'd had to go on was a description of her appearance and the most telling fact of all—that she was known to be travelling with me. After a mouthful of lordly nonsense words, he'd returned to his feet and then had the gall to kiss her hand.

Now he turned to notice me for the first time. He had a look of disgust on his face, as if speaking to me was both beneath him and repulsive. "Clegane." He assessed me and cast a quick look behind him at the men who supported him before continuing. "King Robb has interest only in seeing his sister returned safely. If she attests to the fact that she was not harmed by you, we will allow you to be on your way. If you are seeking compensation, we will see to it that you are paid accordingly and will see the princess Sansa home from this point on." He turned back to Sansa, "My lady, I would request to speak with you in private so that you may have the opportunity to speak candidly without fear of retribution." He cast the look of disapproval my way again.

Sansa hadn't said a word since the whole spectacle had begun, and aside from the recent blush, she'd just stood there pale and silent, listening. She turned to me with an apologetic look on her face. "Just for a moment, Sandor. Please?" She gave a smile that was meant to reassure me, but there was no reassurance to be had so long as that fucker had his hands on her. He flicked an authoritative glance in my direction, before leading her by the hand to a far corner of the common room. I turned on my heel and headed to the stables, my jaw clenched. Inside, my emotions raged in a battle for dominance—anger one moment, fear the next. I was going to lose her.

Everything was over. I knew that I'd be leaving her eventually, had known that for a long time, but I was still supposed to have more time with her—we would have had all the time on the ship and perhaps even some time in White Harbor while waiting for her family. Now she would leave with a lordly escort, travelling in safety and comfort back to her mother and brother. Even if she did want me to join them, would I want to go through that? Unable to be near her, I'd be forced to watch her courted by that smug, handsome face until one day she married him—him or another like him. It would be just like it had been in King's Landing, only worse because I knew her now—cared for her so much more. My heart twisted inside of me.

I stalked angrily to the stables, cursing as I flung open the crude wooden door. _And what were you thinking, Clegane? That she'd choose you? Marry you when she has her choice of any young, handsome fucker in the Seven Kingdoms, you actually thought you had a chance? She made do with your company when it was all to be had, put up with your advances because it was better than cold rape._ I reached the stall where Stranger was and roughed my hand through my hair, pacing the hard packed earth as I tried to regain control of myself. Everything good in my life was coming crashing down around me and I wasn't prepared to lose it—to lose her. I leaned against the wooden frame, closing my eyes and drawing in a deep, shaky breath. Her face rose up in my mind's eye— _"I care for you, Sandor."_ As much as I desperately wanted to, I didn't believe it anymore. Nothing in my life had ever turned out in my favor and this would be no different.

 **~Sansa~**

He said his name was Waltyr, the son of Lord Dustin of Barrowtown. His sandy hair fell over his forehead lazily no matter how often he shoved it back from his large, hazel eyes. He was young, very handsome, and his smooth, gentlemanly manner was enough to fluster me. After Sandor had left, Waltyr led me to an empty table and sat with me, ready to share his purpose and what their presence in Maidenpool meant for me from this point on.

"You will be happy to know, lady Sansa, that your brother and mother were both well when last I saw them," he was saying, still holding my hand in his. "In fact," he chuckled, "your mother was actually punished with confinement to her chambers by his grace for releasing the Kingslayer in the hopes that Cersei would return you and your sister to her in exchange." He shook his head, "When the news came that you'd fled the city, King Robb requested men be sent to find you. We are to meet them at the Twins—with luck, we may even arrive in time for your uncle, Edmure's wedding" He released my hand reluctantly and for the first time, seemed almost shy. Clearing his throat, he glanced down at the table and continued, "His grace has promised _your_ hand in marriage to the house responsible for bringing you home safely. Naturally, every man with eyes in his head has been tripping over one another, hoping to earn the honor." He grinned and looked handsomer than ever.

I smiled, embarrassed, and looked down at my hands. "You honor me, my lord."

He took that as encouragement to continue, for he put a hand on my shoulder in the next moment and spoke more seriously. "The Hound. Has he hurt you my lady? Harmed you in any way? You are safe now, you have my word. Only tell me what he has done and I will send my men now to put him in chains to meet King Robb's justice." When I looked up and met his eyes they were full of righteous indignation and his hand went instinctively to his sword hilt.

"No, no, my lord!" I explained quickly. "You—you had the right of it before. He only wanted to get away from the Lannisters and thought to take me as a means of receiving a reward to live on. He never hurt me—of course he would have known he'd receive no reward if he had." I looked back down at my hands. "He was not unpleasant, I would be grieved to see him harmed in any way. Please."

Waltyr nodded, relaxing his expression a bit and removing his hand from my shoulder. "Of course, my lady, you have a good heart. I have heard many tales of your great beauty—none of which were exaggerated, I must add—but your kindness is clearly of equal abundance in you." He smiled knowingly at me before changing the subject. "And now, you must be very tired from your journey. I will procure a room for you at once. You, there!" He called to a serving girl over my shoulder and requested a room and bath be prepared for me directly.

I glanced nervously in the direction of the door where Sandor had disappeared, but he was nowhere to be seen. Waltyr sat back down across from me, clearly determined to keep me company while my room was being prepared. Though I was nervous and unsure, it was difficult not to enjoy his presence. He was very pleasing—both in demeanor and appearance, and I found myself enjoying his conversation so much that I almost didn't want to leave when I was told my bath was ready. With one final glance at the doorway of the inn, I followed the girl upstairs.

 **-Sandor-**

After brushing down Stranger and trying to ignore the rolling dread in my stomach, I finally returned to the inn. I looked about for Sansa, but she was no longer in the main room. Fear gripped my heart. I strode to the table where the men were gathered, laughing and celebrating their success with mugs of ale. "Where is she?" I demanded.

The handsome lord turned sideways with mild annoyance in his features before standing and facing me. He let his breath out with a hint of impatience, "The lady Sansa has retired to her room to bathe and prepare for the evening meal," he drawled, with self-importance dripping from every word. I clenched my fists, employing every muscle in my body to refrain from knocking him out. He glanced at his men and continued, "Clegane, you have brought the lady safely this far and you have my thanks for that. You are welcome to join in our food and ale this evening. I will also ensure that you receive your payment. You will be free to go wherever you choose, and you will always be welcome in the North." He gave me a gratifying smile that only irritated me further. "But your protection of lady Stark is no longer appropriate, nor necessary." He tilted his head slightly and raised an eyebrow. "Now, can I offer you a round of ale?"

I hated him. Ignoring his offer, I turned toward the stairs, but he moved to stop me. "Where are you going, ser?" His voice had taken on a threatening tone.

I whipped my head back around until it was inches from his, raising my lip in a sneer. "None of your fucking business," I growled. "And I'm not a ser."

His mouth went into a hard line. "Clearly not. If you are attempting to speak with the lady, I am afraid I cannot allow that. You may speak with her when she joins us for the meal. You will no longer be alone with her, Clegane." The corner of his mouth twitched and his hand moved to his sword hilt. I wanted nothing more than to put my fist in his pretty little face, but I thought better of it. There were too many of them to fight and I had to find another way out of this—had to hope that she wanted out of it too.

"I'm just getting myself a room, pretty boy." I sneered at him once more before moving to the keeper of the inn to request a room and a bath. I had to find a way to speak to Sansa in private. If she truly wanted to go home with these men—if she was done with me—so be it. I'd rather know sooner than later, but I had to have a moment alone with her.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I bathed quickly, fighting the nagging worry and fear from taking hold of my mind the entire time. I couldn't leave her with them for too long, so I hurriedly dressed and headed back downstairs, wishing I knew what she was thinking—what she was planning on doing. When I reached the bottom of the steps I saw her immediately, freshly bathed and dressed in her clean, Northern gown. She was looking down and blushing again at something that fucking shitpile had said to her. The jealousy enraged me more than I wanted to admit, even to myself, but I had to keep my head. There was no way we would get out of this by fighting. I had to attempt to be civil.

When she saw me, she didn't show as much emotion as I'd hoped, though a flash of what I thought was relief seemed to pass over her features. She smiled politely, "Sandor," she said simply.

I couldn't help but return the smile, despite how angry and unsure I felt at the moment. "Little bird," I rasped gently. "Finally clean." I teased and she bit her lip, trying to suppress a grin.

The blonde prick quickly put an end to our interaction in the guise of inviting us both to sit down for supper. He offered his arm to her, and with a quick glance at me, she took it, looking embarrassed. I felt a stab in my heart, but hoped my exterior was as gruff and unreadable as I'd trained myself to be for so many years. He led her to the bench before taking a seat beside her. Sansa turned to me and made a small gesture that I should also sit beside her, but I ignored it, moving instead to the opposite side of the table. I hated myself for being petty, but I wouldn't be her second choice, wouldn't follow her like a piteous dog, hoping she still cared for me. She furrowed her brow slightly, then seemed to forget it, turning to speak to the blonde lord again. He was only too happy to be receiving her attention and carried on conversation with her throughout the meal.

I ate in silence, trying to cover the gnawing ache in my stomach with the stew and tankards of ale, but nothing could suppress the pain. When she laughed at something he said I clenched my spoon so tightly that the metal warped in my fist. It was the worst meal I'd ever sat through.

Eventually she began to show signs of fatigue, yawning and covering her mouth daintily. "Forgive me, Waltyr, I am very tired. I think I will retire for the night." _They're on a first name basis?_ I clenched my jaw and looked up at her as she stood, meeting my gaze. "Sandor," she nodded at me, then moved to go upstairs.

"My lady, I will post a guard outside of your door tonight," Waltyr interjected quickly, with a slight glance in my direction, "For your protection." The way he smiled at her made me want to regurgitate my supper.

Sansa glanced at me briefly before turning back to him, but I thought I'd seen a flicker of fear in her features. "Oh, no, please that isn't necessary." She looked beseechingly at him.

"I'm sorry, my lady, but your brother insists I take every precaution with you. Any man in this inn might seek to bring you harm." Again, his eyes flicked to me. _Look at me one more time, cunt, and you won't have eyes._

She sighed, defeated, and nodded weakly. With a final glance at me, and an expression on her face that I couldn't quite read, she moved away from the table.

"Sansa," I said without thinking, getting to my feet suddenly. Everyone's attention turned to me as she rotated in my direction slowly. "Can I speak with you?" I asked quietly.

She lifted her chin slightly and nodded, "Of course, Sandor, but can it wait until morning? I am very tired now, and it has been far too long since I've slept in a proper bed." Her expression was impossible to read.

My heart fell, but I tried not to reveal how much her nonchalance pained me. We were being forced apart and it seemed to make no difference to her. I nodded wordlessly, returning to my seat. Sansa turned away once more and disappeared up the stairs.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

No matter how I tried, sleep would not come. I lay awake in despair, staring at the ceiling into the early hours of the morning. I knew I would be saying goodbye to her at dawn, and I wasn't ready to lose her. I thought of every moment I'd spent with her, of every time she'd made my heart thrill, every smile she'd given me. I remembered her lips on mine, the feel of her smooth skin in my hands—something I would never feel again. I had allowed myself to wish, to hope for more than I deserved and that had been my mistake. I was a dog, a burned dog destined to lead a cruel life of suffering and pain. Why had I ever thought that she could love me?

The moment we'd shared only last night in Gil and Becca's fields came back to me in a rush of bittersweet remembrance. The way the wind had tossed her skirts and long red hair about her—she had looked the picture of sweet, feminine perfection. And I'd taken her in my arms and kissed her, held her close to my heart where I'd hoped she could always be. I had allowed myself to hope, to dream of a life with her by my side and now it was all fading away.

A tiny knock sounded at my door, so small that I thought I imagined it. I squinted at the door through the darkness before deciding that it had just been movement from another room. Settling again on my pillow, I tried to pick up the reverie where I'd left off, but instead I heard the tapping once more, followed by a whisper. "Sandor?"

My heart leapt at her voice and I nearly fell off the bed in my rush to get to the door. I took a deep breath and turned the knob slowly. Sansa's small, hooded figure slipped inside my room quickly, shutting the door softly behind her.

Though I was relieved to see her, I couldn't help but show my surprise. "Little bird, what—"

She jerked her hood off and reached up to me, wrapping her arms around my neck and covering my mouth with hers. The relief washed over me like a wave as I exhaled and drew her into me, allowing my fears and insecurities to flee before her unrestrained display of affection. She cared for me. She still wanted me. I kissed her fiercely, the emotion rising inside me with every second. It was too much and my throat tightened.

I drew back slowly, my hand caressing her cheek as her lips left mine. "Sansa," I whispered hoarsely, searching her eyes. "I thought you…" I swallowed, unable to finish my thought.

She cupped my scarred face with her little hand, her brow furrowing in concern, "You thought I didn't care for you? Thought a handsome lord could make me forget what I feel about you?" She kissed me again. "Do you know what he told me?" She didn't wait for my response. "My brother offered my hand in marriage to whichever house found me and brought me home safely." Her teeth set angrily and she looked away. "Doesn't matter who, doesn't matter what the man is like, if he's good or kind, just matters that he finds me." She was trying to whisper, and it came out like a hiss in her anger. "I'm just a bargaining tool, just a valuable asset." She turned back and caressed my face once more. "I know my family loves me, but they don't understand what I went through with Joffrey, they're thinking like they're at war, and they are, but I'm a person." She searched my eyes and reached up with her other hand, holding my face between hers. "I will not ever let my fate be decided with a prearranged betrothal again. I feel safe with you—happy with you, and I want to be with _you_ , Sandor."

Gods, it was like a dream, like the best dream I'd ever had, but she was flesh and blood, and she was in my arms. I gathered her once more and drew her as close to me as physically possible, holding her tightly against my heart. She was mine and I would never let her go. I kissed her head and rested my face against her soft, clean hair, overcome with feeling for her. She lifted her face to mine and I stroked her cheek with my thumb, gazing into her clear blue eyes in the moonlight. I wouldn't hold it in any longer—she was my everything.

"I love you, little bird," I whispered hoarsely, stroking a lock of hair back from her temple, and making sure she could read the sincerity in my eyes.

Her mouth fell open slightly as she caught her breath, her brow furrowing with emotion as she reached up and took my face in her hand once more. Her eyes passed back and forth between mine earnestly, processing my confession. Then she closed her eyes and kissed my lips softly.

"I don't really know what love is," she whispered, tracing the scars on my face. "But I know I couldn't face life without you. If love is feeling the way you make me feel, and never wanting to let you go—if it's wanting you to find peace and happiness, and wanting to be a part of that more than I've ever wanted anything…then," she smiled and looked into my eyes, "Then I must love you, Sandor."

I raked my fingers into the hair at the back of her head, drawing her into my kiss. I had bared my soul—allowed my walls to come down for the woman who had stolen my heart, and she'd responded in a way I'd only hoped for. I knew a happiness in that moment that couldn't be described with words. I never wanted that moment to end.

When it finally did, after one last tender smile, she glanced back at the door. "We have to leave, Sandor. Tonight. They won't understand, Robb won't understand. I want to leave with you." She looked at me beseechingly. "I'm sorry I was short with you earlier, but I didn't want them to catch on and try to lock you up or anything."

Suddenly I remembered, "How did you get past the guard?"

She smiled mischievously, "I climbed out of my window. It wasn't very high, I tied off my sheet and used it to lower myself down. Then I crept back up the stairs. The guard was still at my door, but he was dead asleep with his back against it. So I held my breath and knocked at your door, praying he wouldn't wake up. I had asked the handmaiden before bed which door was yours. I knew the only way we could get out was if I could get to you tonight." She grasped my hands in hers. "So let's go," she whispered. "I already have my bag, I left it hidden outside before I came up here."

I chuckled and shook my head, "You always surprise me, Sansa." She grinned and I pulled her by the waist toward me, kissing her again. "Where will we go?" I asked seriously.

"Anywhere," she said, looking deep into my eyes. "We can take the first ship out of the harbor, I don't care where it's going, I just want to get away. With you." She kissed my hand.

"Aye," I rasped, taking her waist in both hands, still in shock at the favorable turn of events. I kissed her brow. "Then let's go."


	11. Chapter 11

**All right guys, I'm back, so sorry for the delay! I tried something new later on in the chapter, where I jump back and forth between both perspectives so hopefully it still works. I only plan to do it for that one scene, but if enough of you don't care for it, I'll go back and change it.**

 **~Sansa~**

Within ten minutes we were riding quietly away from the inn, moving at a slow, but determined pace through the darkness of the early morning hours. Sandor's free hand wrapped around my waist and held me tightly. I couldn't blame him—I was certain I'd put him through several hours of torture from my behavior while in the presence of Waltyr and his men. It had been a necessary evil, but that didn't make me feel any better about hurting him. I slid my hand on top of his, squeezing it lightly and feeling grateful that I hadn't needed to keep up the charade for very long. It had killed me to look into his eyes and see the pain written there after I'd been aloof and distant to him.

But, oh, he loved me! It was too good to be true—too much to process now, but still my heart beat wildly and my stomach churned in remembrance of his words. He loved me. I was running away from the chance to be reunited with my family, but I would be with Sandor, the man who had stolen my heart. I could scarcely contain myself.

They would forgive me, I hoped, once they received my letter and understood why I'd left. Surely Robb would understand—Robb who'd also married for love, abdicating a prior engagement for the chance to be with the woman who held his heart. At the inn I'd requested quill, ink, and paper from the maid before bed, and had written two letters—one for Waltyr explaining our disappearance, and one for Mother and Robb. I smirked at the thought of Waltyr's shock upon reading its contents—contents that revealed that I had no intention of marrying anyone other than Sandor Clegane and that I had no further need of their aid to find my way home. But I hoped he would honor my request to deliver the other letter to Robb. I hadn't, after all, been rude or cruel, just honest.

The smell of salt and fish struck me and in the next moment I recognized the rolling, shifting darkness rising ahead of us as the water of the harbor. There was no one moving about at the docks yet—it was still several hours before sunrise—so Sandor led us to a little secluded spot, shielded from the road by stacks of cargo, but still with a view of the harbor so we could see the moment there was signs of activity. He dismounted behind me, then reached up to take me by the waist and lifted me effortlessly from Stranger's back. His hands lingered on me for a moment after he'd settled me gently on the ground, sending a thrill through me as his touches always did. I held my breath, closing my eyes for a moment as I imagined his heavy fingers brushing across my bare skin. I couldn't help but wish it would become reality before long.

After he'd secured Stranger, he seated himself next to me where I leaned against a crate, looking out over the open water. He put his arm around my shoulders and drew me close to him.

"Oh, Sandor," I whispered as the cool, night air kissed my cheeks and ruffled my hair, bringing with it a fresh scent of the sea. "Do you think we can book passage on one of them?" The ships that I spoke of rose and fell in the harbor, lulling me with their swaying movements. The fatigue from our long day was finally settling on me—the adrenaline of our escape ebbing away like the distant waves after crashing against the rocks.

"Aye," he rasped, "Sea captains speak in the language of gold and silver, and we have that." He turned to me and I heard the smile in his voice. "Your pretty lord paid me for you."

A gasp escaped my lips and I pushed at his chest. "No! And you took it?" I was smiling too, despite myself.

He chuckled, "I wasn't going to. I was angry—I wouldn't have ever wanted you to think I'd take money in place of you," his grip on my shoulder tightened. "I'd planned to leave it. But then you came to me, and I changed my mind." I heard the grin again as he continued, "That money comes from your family, meant to pay me for keeping you safe and that's what I'm doing. Need money to protect you since you're the most beautiful woman in Westeros." He pushed the hair back from my face and kissed my lips, which pulled away in a demure smile at his flattery.

"Mmm, do you think so?" I mumbled, as his warm breath caressed my skin. I hovered inches from his face with my eyes closed—his hand still cupped my cheek.

"Aye," he whispered hoarsely, his lips lightly brushing mine again. "Me and every other fucker who lays eyes on you. Didn't you see how that prick looked at you?" He growled and gripped my arm tighter, "I wanted to poke his eyes out of his smug little head." He inhaled sharply and kissed me again—harder this time—releasing his frustration into my mouth as he proved I belonged to him.

When his lips finally left mine, I smiled up at him. "I know. I'm sorry, Sandor. I knew it was awful to treat you how I did, especially while he was flattering me and trying to win me over." I cast my gaze to the hard-packed earth we were sitting on. "I felt terrible, but I was afraid of what they might do to you. I wanted to throw him off by making him feel comfortable—making him think I wanted to go with him and get away from you." I looked back up at him apologetically.

He gave me a sad smile as he stroked my arm. "Well, you did a damn good job of it—you had both of us fooled."

My brow furrowed in concern as I searched his face. "I could never forget you so quickly, Sandor. You think far too little of yourself." I took his face in my hand. "You make me happy like no one else has—help me forget the pain I've endured recently. I only want to be with you," I whispered, leaning in to kiss his lips gently.

He inhaled deeply and drew me closer to him, kissing me passionately and making my heart thrill and my body melt. I was overcome with feeling for him—completely drunk on love. I wanted nothing more than to be his.

 **-Sandor-**

We dozed off a few times, with her in my arms and the cool, sea breeze wafting over us. When I was awake (which was most of the time—keeping watch), I was thinking of her and of what this meant for us. Could she truly be mine? Would she want to stay with me and actually marry me, not just fulfill a little fantasy of running away with a lover before being discovered by her family and forced to marry politically? I tried not to think about the latter, but it was a possibility. The only way she would be mine was if we were married and the marriage was consummated. _Not like there'd be any problem following through on that._ Then, no matter how they disliked it, her family could not separate us. Still, I wouldn't do that to her unless I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that marriage was what she wanted. I was hers—to command, to love—I would do whatever she wanted.

By the time there was finally movement on the docks, the little bird was fast asleep in my arms. I needed to secure a spot for us on a ship before we were discovered missing at the inn, but it would be better to do it without her. Once they saw me with a woman like her, they'd know something was amiss—I'd rather be safely on board and have our passage paid for by then.

"Sansa," I shook her awake gently, and she moaned, rubbing at her eyes. When I saw that she was fully aware, I continued, "I'm going to go talk with the captains. It'll be better if you aren't there—I don't want them to figure out who we are. We can deal with any questions after we're safely away from here."

She nodded hesitantly and looked about her. "All right," she managed, though it was obvious she was nervous.

"You'll be all right. Keep your hood up," I said, and handed her my knife. She just stared at it and swallowed hard before looking blankly back up at me. "Stay close to Stranger, he's as good as a dog when it comes to protection." I winked at her and kissed her brow. "I'll be back soon."

 **xxxxxxxx**

After that, everything moved quickly and without difficulty—a show of uncharacteristically good luck for me. Within ten minutes or so, we were booked on a vessel whose final destination was Eastwatch by the Sea, but which would be stopping in White Harbor for additional cargo. The captain hadn't cared much who I was, once silver had been procured, and promised a cabin easily. Even so, I was relieved that he wasn't present when we loaded onto the ship, therefore unable to ask unwanted questions relating to Sansa and my war-horse and armor. It was still pre-dawn, and the semi-darkness was in our favor, limiting the ability of the crew to notice anything unusual about us. I sent Sansa to the cabin and joined her there once I'd secured Stranger below deck.

And so, with surprising ease, we found ourselves on the next leg of our journey. As the ship put out from shore, we both breathed a sigh of relief, stunned at how we'd actually managed to escape with no opposition and no difficulties. Sansa sat down on the little bed and sighed happily, looking as if she'd be passing out any moment. She glanced up at me shyly after removing her boots, still not fully accustomed to sharing a bed with me. I moved to stand in front of her, taking in the scene before me—this beautiful woman who had begged me to take her away, now looking up at me innocently. I pushed away the question in the back of my mind—whether this meant that she was ready to be mine—and crawled into the bed beside her, pulling her down next to me. Within moments we both slipped into a deep and contented sleep.

 **~Sansa~**

It was nearly sundown when I was awakened by the gentle swaying motion of the ship and the creaking of the wood surrounding us. Sandor's arm was lying across my body, holding me close to him from behind. I smiled and wrapped my arm around his, nestling further back into the warm nook created by his body. He stirred and tightened his hold on me, breathing deeply as he regained consciousness.

"No, I don't want to get up," he rasped thickly in my ear, pulling me closer to him. "I want to stay here with you." He kissed my neck gently and I rolled over to face him, laughing softly.

"You don't want to get something to eat?" I asked, stifling a yawn. "I'm starving." He kissed my forehead.

"Aye, I 'spose I could stand for some food. But it'll be better if you take your meals in here." He sat up and rubbed his eyes, yawning and raking his hand through his hair.

I pouted a bit, sitting up next to him, "So I have to stay in this cabin the whole trip?" I tried to mask the disappointment from my voice.

He turned to me and chuckled, "Of course not, little bird. But mealtime when everyone is gathered and you're the only woman present—," he shook his head, "Best to avoid a situation like that."

I nodded, resigned, and after pulling his boots on, he stood and turned back to me. "I'll have your supper sent up here," he took my hand and drew it to his lips. "My lady," he teased with a grin. "Keep the door locked, I'll be back soon." And then he was gone.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

(A/N We are jumping between perspectives now, Sansa in standard, Sandor in bold)

 **Sandor: When I stepped back into the little cabin room after supper, Sansa was standing and staring blankly at me. She looked as if she'd just jumped up from where she'd been seated on the bed—as if I'd caught her by surprise. I glanced at the little table and saw that her supper had arrived and had apparently been heartily consumed.**

 **She twisted her hands nervously in front of her and I raised my eyebrow, "What's the matter, little bird?" My thoughts immediately jumped to the worst case scenario, "Has someone done something to you?" I quickly crossed the room, taking her by the shoulders and searching her face questioningly.**

I shook my head and managed a nervous smile which did little to assuage his concerns. My stomach was flipping inside of me, but I was determined to follow through with my decision. Slowly, I turned and walked to the door, checking that it was locked, before facing him once more. His expression had changed slightly—I couldn't quite read it, but I saw him swallow and clench his jaw. I closed my eyes briefly, focused on my intention, and let out a controlled breath as I opened them again to meet his gaze. Reaching over my shoulder, I drew my long braid in front of me and slowly began working the hair loose, never taking my eyes off his face.

 **The dim light of the lantern from its position on the wall cast flickering shadows about her and put little stars in her eyes—eyes that now appeared deeper and darker than usual with a look in them that I hadn't seen before. I began to remove my boots, trying to ignore the way her behavior reminded me of that night at the stream—the night that seemed so long ago now.**

 **"Sandor," she began, her voice low and sultry. My pulse quickened immediately at her tone, but I forced myself to remain calm while she continued.** **Her hands worked slowly, drawing each strand apart from the other methodically. "My brother's men are all trying to find me, with the hopes of being able to claim me as their own. It's only a matter of time before we run into more of them in White Harbor." She shook her head as the last of the strands freed themselves from being entwined with the others, and her hair fell loosely about her shoulders in a cascade of gorgeous, auburn waves. She took a deep breath and continued, her hands moving behind her back.**

"They're Northmen—stubborn and determined. They won't stop looking for me and trying to take me for their wife." I pulled at the strings of my bodice quickly and felt the fabric loosen from my waist. My gaze fixed on him and I tried to keep the nervousness from my voice. "They can't fight over me if I already belong to you," I whispered, drawing my trembling hand up to my shoulder and slipping the garment from it.

 **I felt as if my heart might stop as the realization of what was happening began to dawn on me. She was undressing before me, just as she'd done in the stream, only this time there was no clothing beneath her dress.** **I held my breath in anticipation. She pulled the garment slowly down her smooth skin until both shoulders were bare, and then in one glorious movement her dress fell to the floor, revealing her naked form to me in an instant.**

 **I drew in a deep breath as my eyes raked her body hungrily, taking in her small, perfect breasts that tensed immediately from the chill, down her bare stomach to the tuft of auburn hair that covered the place between her long, slender legs where I wanted to be. My cock began to swell against the barrier of my breeches, the blood pounding through my veins as I took a step toward her.**

My heart was beating so heavily in my chest, I was certain he could hear it. I fought the urge to hide my nakedness, determined to be bold. I wanted him to have me, and I wouldn't shy from his gaze or flinch at his touches. My core was aching for him and I watched his eyes rove over my body, looking black with desire in the dim light of the room. As he stepped closer to me, I raised my hand and buried it in my hair, pulling at it slightly in an attempt to calm my nerves. I saw his manhood pushing against his breeches as it hardened and I bit my lip.

 **When I drew close enough to touch her, I could hear her breath hitch in her throat. I let my eyes roam over her prim, tight little breasts where the hard, pink nipples fairly begged for my attention. Her lower lip was in her pretty mouth, preventing it from shaking as she stood naked before me, presenting herself to be mine. I reached out and pushed a long strand of hair behind her shoulders, eliminating the last bit of concealment for her exquisite body. I allowed my hand to linger on her skin, hesitating. I couldn't believe this was actually happening** **—that I was the man she wanted to give herself to.**

 **A growl of desire rose unbidden from my throat, and I found myself unable to remove my eyes from her body. "Little bird…are you sure this is what you want?" I trailed my hand along her shoulder and down her arm until it found its way to the curve of her breast. She sucked in a ragged breath as I cupped the entirety of it in my large hand and squeezed softly, at the same time grasping her bare waist and pulling her against my body before claiming her mouth with mine.**

I shuddered and moaned as he tasted me, his fingers on my nipple sending fire sweeping through my body. Gods, of course this was what I wanted—I realized that even more so now as I felt the wetness between my legs and a throbbing of desire that I'd never experienced so intensely before. His hand moved to my backside and squeezed as he drew me closer to him, pressing his manhood against my bare stomach. His tunic felt scratchy and rough on my naked breasts, the unusual sensation heightening my arousal.

 **If she wanted me to stop, her window of opportunity was swiftly closing. I was about to lose myself in her. The curves of her virgin body beneath my hands were irresistible, but I forced myself to draw back and allow her a chance to respond. She raised her heavy lashes to meet my gaze, nearly shaking in my arms from passion.**

 **"It's what I want, Sandor," she whispered, her hands resting against my chest and pushing her breasts together invitingly. "I want to be yours. And I don't want to wait any longer." She kissed me breathlessly, slipping her hands down my sides to grasp the edges of my tunic and lift them up to remove it. I took over, swiftly pulling the garment over my head, before returning my hands to her naked body. She slid her bare arms slowly up over my shoulders, rotating her head passionately and drawing me into a deep kiss. Her warm breasts connected with my chest, her nipples raised in arousal. Groaning with unrestrained desire, I grasped her head with one hand, and her bottom with the other, pulling her close and ravishing her. I could finally make her my own.**

His bare skin against mine was incredible—warm and erotic—and I moaned into his mouth. He turned me in the direction of the bed and began moving toward it, still kissing me passionately and allowing his strong hands to roam over every inch of my body. I loved them on me—caressing and stroking me gently in places that I'd never before been touched.

 **I raked my hand through her hair and explored her body. Fuck, I wanted her now, wanted to pull my cock out of my breeches and push it into her, to make her scream my name. When her legs touched the edge of the bed I gripped her thighs and hoisted her up onto me.**

I gasped and wrapped my arms tightly around his neck, for the first time being completely spread open against the huge outline of his manhood and separated only by the thin barrier of his breeches. My core ached for him—a feeling I wasn't very familiar with, but I knew I wanted him inside of me. My head arched backward in ecstasy as his lips connected with the skin of my neck and he moved his hips ever so slightly into me, pushing the tip of himself against my entrance.

 **The warmth and wetness inside her folds penetrated the rough fabric of my pants and I bit down on the curve of her neck, growling as everything in me craved to be inside of her. With one hand wrapped around her back, I moved along the bed on my knees, supporting our weight with my other arm until I reached the pillows where I laid her gently.**

 **She was like a goddess—easily the most beautiful and exquisite woman I'd ever seen, let alone been intimate with. Her mouth was open, breathing raggedly in anticipation and arousal as she gazed intensely into my eyes. Sansa Stark was bewitching** — **irresistible, for she somehow managed to be both virginally innocent and boldly seductive.**

He kissed me again and trailed his hand down the front of my body, stopping to rest momentarily at my breasts before sliding it further down until it was grasping my waist. I shuddered and moved beneath him, my eyes closing as I experienced new, thrilling sensations from the explorations of his hands. He sucked on my bottom lip and then moved to the sensitive skin of my neck where his beard felt scratchy and created a sharp contrast from the warm, wet feeling of his mouth.

 **Her throat vibrated when she moaned. Still, I moved lower until I was kissing the top and sides of her breast, before taking her nipple entirely in my mouth. Sansa gasped and dug her nails into the flesh of my arm as I worked her breast with my tongue, sucking and nibbling at the hard nipple. When she moaned in pleasure I felt a surge in my groin, but I restrained myself, focusing instead on reveling in her body and preparing her for me. I moved one knee outside of her legs and with my mouth still paying attention to her breasts, I let my hand travel further until it plunged into the hair of her mound.**

A shock of pleasure coursed through my body and I released a whine when his hand found my small pleasure spot. The feeling of his fingers between my legs, touching me intimately as his mouth covered my breast was almost overwhelming. My wetness allowed his finger to slide easily over me, and he began drawing circles on my sensitive nub, alternating the pressure and intensity. I gasped and writhed as he moved, burying one of my hands in his hair and clenching his large, muscled shoulder with the other.

My breathing was erratic when he lifted his head to meet my gaze, his eyes filled with passion and desire. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly slipped his finger into me and my mouth fell open in a shuddering whine. He continued until it was as far as it would go inside me, biting his lip as he watched me respond to his erotic touches. When he began moving it, my nails dug into his back and I clenched my teeth. My eyes closed and my head fell backward as I moved my hips into his hand, begging for more.

 **She was so wet and tight, it was all I could do to keep from removing my finger and replacing it with my aching cock, but I wanted her to feel as little pain as possible, which meant I had to prepare her with my fingers for as long as possible. Besides, watching her writhe and moan from my touches was incredibly erotic—exploring her naked body was something I'd wanted to do for a very long time.**

 **I continued to work my finger inside of her, curling and thrusting it as I alternately sucked on each nipple or the little spot where her neck met her shoulder. The quickening of her breath combined with the little sounds escaping from her lips told me that she was near her moment of pleasure. Her back arched and she clenched her fingers around my arm, moaning and moving her hips into my thrusts. I covered her mouth with a deep kiss, filling her with my tongue as much as my finger and feeling the vibrations of her sounds in my head before withdrawing both suddenly. When I looked down at her, the look of pleasure in her eyes was replaced momentarily by desperation.**

The loss of him inside of me was torment. "Don't stop, Sandor," I begged, stretching my hips toward his hand and gripping his shoulder.

He chuckled, sending chills down my spine as his finger drew swiftly up to my pleasure spot. "No fear of that, little bird." Then he moved back down and this time pressed two fingers against my entrance. I sucked in my breath sharply, closing my eyes as he plunged them both into me. There was a slight stinging sensation which quickly subsided as the pleasure began to overtake me once more. He was inside me, exactly where I wanted him, and the thought was incredibly erotic. Within moments I was panting and grinding against his hand again, desperate for my release.

 **I plunged my fingers in and out of her, gradually picking up speed—the lust building inside me as she squirmed and moaned beneath my touches. Soon I would be filling her instead of my fingers** **—I would fuck her hard as I'd wanted to do for ages.** **I clenched my jaw in restraint, forcing myself to wait until she was ready. I slipped my thumb along her pleasure spot at the same moment that I took her breast in my mouth and bit down softly on her nipple. She cried out, her hands digging into my back as she squealed through clenched teeth, and her body tensed beneath me. I could feel her inside walls contracting around my fingers in spasms as she reached her climax.**

The pleasure washed over me, like a wave of passionate fire that left me trembling and weak in its wake. It spread from my core, which clenched around his fingers tightly in the moment, and out through every inch of my body. I drew the pillow up to my mouth and bit down on it as I moaned the last of my pleasure weakly into it. He lifted his head from my breast and grinned. "That's one." Then his mouth was covering mine again, his tongue filling me just as his fingers had done.

 **She was breathing heavily, a sheen of sweat glistening on her ivory skin after I pulled back and she looked innocently into my eyes. "One?" she whispered questioningly, stroking my bare back gently with her small hand and shuddering as I moved my fingers inside of her more and more slowly.**

 **"Aye," I buried my head in her neck and nibbled on the skin by her ear. "You'll have another," I rasped before taking her earlobe in my mouth and sucking.**

 **She shuddered again and whined, and suddenly I felt her hand wrap around my cock. I sucked in a breath sharply, groaning into her ear and curling my fingers that were still deep inside of her. "I want you," she whispered in my ear, tightening her grip around me as she spoke.**

He pulled his head up to look into my eyes, seeming surprised at my aggressiveness. "Fuck, you're much feistier than you look," he growled. I couldn't help it, I was overcome with a desire I'd never experienced before. I _wanted_ him.

He pulled his fingers out of me, and while holding my gaze he brought them to his mouth, sucking first on one, then the other. It was my turn to be surprised and I gasped, momentarily releasing my grip on his manhood. He grinned again, "Don't want me to taste you, little bird?" he asked.

 **She blushed and I kissed the rosy skin on her cheek. "I can't help myself, I've wanted you for too long," I rasped into her ear, my hand working at the tie on my breeches. "I've wanted to taste you, touch you—fuck you." I pulled away, going onto my knees as I began removing the last of my clothing. "And now you're mine," I growled, pulling the garment down. She watched me with one hand resting over her breast as my cock sprang free from the restraints of my pants. Her eyes widened slightly, but the desire hadn't gone out of them. I slipped out of the clothing quickly and returned to her, ready to take her.**

He moved between my thighs again, this time with nothing separating us, and he grasped the inside of one as he hovered over me. My heart was pounding and I sucked in a breath sharply when the warm, silky skin of his manhood brushed against my thigh. My grip tightened on his shoulder, and without warning, he grasped my other wrist—the hand that had grabbed him a moment ago—and drew it down to touch him again, this time without the protection of the layer of fabric. My eyes widened as I slowly wrapped my fingers around the smooth, veined skin of his manhood. I bit my lip again. I wanted to be his, but I had no idea how I could accommodate that inside me. I never thought it would be so big.

 **I grinned and kissed her, drawing her lip out from her own mouth and into mine. "You still want me?" I rasped into her ear as she tentatively stroked the length of my hard cock. She nodded—a bit uncertainly—and I slipped my hand between her folds once more, paying attention to her pleasure spot. Her breath quickened again and she moaned when my fingers plunged back inside of her. She released her hold on me and arched her back, moving her hips against my hand. I widened my fingers this time, stretching and preparing her to take me as my forehead rested against hers and her mouth fell open with a ragged breath.**

Another stinging sensation shot through me as he stretched me and I clenched my fingers into his skin, biting my lip hard. I knew it was necessary. I also knew the pain would be much worse when it was his—his cock instead of his fingers. Even thinking the word sent a thrill of lust through me, impressing upon me the reality of what we were doing, but I didn't care. If I was going to give myself to any man, I wanted it to be him.

He withdrew his fingers and passed them down himself several times, coating his manhood with the wetness on them. I shivered at the erotic thought of him wanting my essence on him and felt the desire building inside of me again. He repeated the action, pumping his fingers inside me, sending shots of pleasure through my body, then slipping them out and sliding them down his full length.

 **I hovered over her, my cock throbbing with the stimulation and aching to be inside of her as I positioned it against her entrance. Her mouth was open and shaking, her pupils dilated with desire and a tinge of fear. I leaned in close to her, allowing the silky head of my manhood to push against her opening as my forehead touched hers.**

 **"I don't want to hurt you, little bird," I groaned, desperately trying to withhold the urge to plunge myself into her.**

 **She bit her lip again and gently began pulling my shoulders toward her, looking deep into my eyes as she wordlessly begged me to take her. I supported myself on one elbow and gripped the outside of her thigh with my other hand. With a low growl, I pushed my hips forward, steadily forcing my way into her. Her brow furrowed and she cried out softly, her fingers digging into the skin on my shoulders, but I was drunk with the feeling of being inside of her. I set my teeth and closed my eyes, unable to watch the pain I was inflicting on her, but overwhelmed with the pleasure of finally having her. I pushed into her further, groaning and forcing her to accommodate my girth slowly. She cried out again, a soft, pained whine, and I buried my forehead into her neck, both pushing myself to continue and unable to stop; tearing her open, yet burning with desire.**

 **I was more than halfway inside of her when she choked out a restrained sob, her body tensing and pushing at me slightly. Her nails were nearly breaking the skin on my chest, and I fought with myself for a moment. "Do you want me to stop, Sansa?" I asked, pulling up and looking into her eyes while knowing full well that I may not be able to actually accommodate such a request. She let out a shaky breath, her forehead contracted, but she shook her head. Despite the pain, she was determined to be mine. The thought was intoxicating**. **I gripped her waist tightly and pushed the rest of the way inside her as she stifled a scream against my shoulder. Her inner walls held my cock so tightly it was all I could do to not release instantly. I lifted my head to look into her eyes, where unshed tears glistened and her brows contracted. "Fuck," I groaned, feeling both incredibly guilty and at the edge of a pleasure more intense than I'd ever felt before.**

My core was burning as he stretched me more than I thought possible. Yet there was a conflict inside of me—the pain made me want it to stop, but some instinct, some ravenous wolf inside of me wanted more. I wanted him to completely fill me, to make me feel as if I would always be his. He lay over me, buried entirely inside of me and resting his head in the crook of my neck. I knew he was withholding himself for my sake, and it only made me want him more.

I slowly pushed my hips into him as the worst of the pain subsided, and he groaned into my ear. When he withdrew his cock slightly from me, I sucked in a breath and clenched his shoulders again. He lifted his head and grasped my cheek with one hand, searching my eyes in the candlelight. "Fuck," he groaned, before covering my mouth with his and pushing into me again. I moaned into his mouth, from both the pain and the pleasure, and he was still for a moment as he kissed me, fully buried in me once more. My muscles relaxed slightly at the gentle pleasure of his kiss, and each moment he was inside of me, my body slowly began to grow accustomed to him.

 **I gripped the outside of her thigh and sucked on her neck as I slowly began to fuck her. I moved gently at first, reveling in the feeling of her tight body surrounding my cock. I was the first to have her—before any of those bastards could or ever would. She was mine—given to me willingly and desirous. Her moans sounded less pained than before and her breaths began to come more rapidly as her body moved with mine. I wanted to see her face, to watch her experiencing pleasure as I fucked her, and I pulled my head from the crook of her neck. Beneath me, her perfect breasts shook with each thrust and eventually my movements became faster and less delicate as my instincts took over. I pumped in and out of her, clenching her thigh and pounding her exquisite body down into the sheets as I finally claimed her as my own.**

I no longer noticed the pain as the sensation of him filling me—pushing himself into pleasure spots previously unknown to me—began to take over. The burning sensation of ecstasy started to build in my core and I lifted my forehead to his, reaching around behind his neck and pulling him into me.

"Ohh, Sandor," I gasped, and kissed him again. He gripped the back of my head as his hips moved in and out, pushing himself into me with ever-increasing fervor and passion. I was close to a feeling I'd never had before—it was like the climax I'd already felt, but different somehow—deeper and more raw. It burned in my core and overtook me suddenly with an all-encompassing intensity. Having him inside of me, this man that I loved and had given myself to was so erotic that I reached a second climax easily and unexpectedly. I pulled away from his mouth and gasped loudly, allowing my head to fall back in ecstasy as a whine escaped my lips. I grasped his hips and pulled him into me, feeling as if I needed him further inside of me, needed more of him.

 **Her body contracting around my cock pushed me over the edge—I couldn't withhold any longer and I squeezed her breast hard as I thrust deeply into her. My forehead rested against her collarbone and I clenched my teeth, groaning loudly as the orgasm rushed through my body, releasing itself in spasms. The pleasure was greater than any I'd experienced before, and she moaned as my cock pulsed, spilling my seed inside of her. She finally released her hold on my hips, panting and allowing her head to fall back down on the pillow, exposing her neck to me.**

 **I relaxed my body over her, still pulsing inside of her as I sucked on her neck, marking her as my own. After a moment, my mouth made its way up to her ear. "That's two," I grinned at her and she wrapped her arms around my neck, drawing me into her kiss.**

"Gods, Sandor," I breathed after pulling away. My core ached from the experience, and I felt incredibly satisfied, although I knew I would be sore tomorrow. I didn't care. I felt complete—whole, with him inside of me. Nothing could compare to that feeling. I drew him close to me and planted a gentle kiss on the burned side of his face, stroking it tenderly.

He smiled sincerely, the happiest smile I'd ever seen out of him, and kissed me full on the mouth again. Then he slipped out of me, leaving me with a strange feeling of emptiness, as he rolled onto the bed next to me and pulled me onto his chest.

 **"Fuck, I've wanted to do that for a long time," I chuckled, stroking her bare back with one hand.**

 **She looked up at me and smiled sheepishly. "Me too," she admitted.**

 **I looked down at her with a grin, "Have you? For how long? When did you first want me to fuck you, Sansa Stark?"**

 **She smacked my chest playfully, trying to suppress a grin. "I don't really remember. Maybe a little bit after we bathed in that stream together—though I wouldn't have realized that's what it was then. But definitely that first night in the inn. Gods, I wanted you so badly."**

 **I smiled at the thought of this highborn beauty wanting me, it seemed absurd. "Did you? I could have accommodated you know."**

"I know, but I'm glad you didn't. I didn't know I loved you then as I do now. Now I only want to be yours." I kissed his chest and smiled up at him.

 **I felt a surge of feeling for her, and I kissed her head. "Aye, you'll be mine then. I don't know how I've been so lucky, but I'll take it." I gave her another smile.**

"Well, you know my family has approved it. Remember, they've promised my hand in marriage to the house who brings me home safely. Seems House Clegane is the one accomplishing that," I grinned wickedly at him.

 **"Oh? And you want to marry me?" It was strange to actually hear it from her lips.**

 **She looked surprised and almost hurt. "Of course I do. What do you think my intention was here?" She sat up and a little fire had gone into her demeanor. "I'm not a whore, Sandor."**

He gripped my arm and pulled me closer to him. "I would never even think that about you, Sansa. You're the first woman I've ever loved and you're everything to me." My face softened and I relaxed instantly at his reassurance. He continued, "It's just strange for me—to think that a highborn, beautiful woman like you would ever want to be with a man like me." He drew me into the crook of his shoulder where I rested my face on his chest.

"It's not strange for me," I said softly, stroking his chest. "You're everything I want in a husband." I lifted my head and placed a hand on his cheek as I softly kissed his lips.

 **I took her face in both my hands, returning her kiss passionately. "I fucking love you, little bird," I whispered hoarsely, looking intently into her eyes. "As soon as this ship lands, we'll find a septon and I'm going to make you mine."**


	12. Chapter 12

**-Sandor-**

When I awoke in the night from the steady rocking and swaying of the ship, the events of the evening before came rushing back over me in a wave of remembrance. For one brief moment I was sure it had all been a dream—that my desires had manifested themselves in my subconscious mind once I'd drifted off to sleep. I stretched my arm out toward her and felt her bare, soft skin beneath my fingers, realizing in the same moment that I was definitely naked as well—it had not been a dream. She had been mine; she _was_ mine. I pulled her naked form against me and inhaled her scent, burying my face into the mound of tousled, auburn hair around her head. My hands roved her body once more, slipping from her breasts down her smooth stomach and over her hips. I wanted to fuck her again.

I began kissing her neck from behind as I pulled her hips against my erection. Sansa stirred in her sleep, moaning softly and slowly regaining consciousness. The only light in the room was from the cracks around the door allowing the moonlight to squeeze through, but I didn't need to see to take her again. She rolled toward me, slipping her hand along my upper arm as she whispered my name.

"Sandor?" She purred groggily, "What's the matter?"

I pulled her closer to me, sliding my hands along her slender figure as I rose up on one elbow and leaned over her. "There's a naked woman in my bed," I rasped in her ear, slowly leaving a trail of kisses down her neck.

She chuckled softly as her delicate hands reached around and stroked my back. "There's a naked man on top of me when I'm trying to sleep," she mumbled, opening her legs for me when I moved over her.

"You can go back to sleep," I whispered hoarsely in her ear, biting down on the tender flesh of her neck as I eased myself closer to her. "But I need you again." She sucked in a breath, moaning softly as I entered her, claiming her body for the second time that night.

Somehow, I had managed to win the heart of the woman of my dreams, the only woman I'd ever truly wanted to be mine. I would never let her go, never for a moment take for granted the incredible good fortune I'd found when Sansa Stark came after me all those weeks ago in King's Landing. She'd changed me—gentled the rage in my soul left from the pain that my brother had inflicted upon me all my life. She'd given me her love, her heart, and a reason to live again. The scars I bore no longer mattered to me—she'd made me whole again.

 **~Sansa~**

Those weeks we spent together on the ship to White Harbor was one of the best times of my life. I wouldn't have thought I could feel happy again, or hopeful for the future after all of the trauma and suffering I'd endured, and yet when I was with Sandor I felt as if anything was possible. Every time he took me, he impressed upon me how much he cared for me—how much he'd always wanted to have me as his own. I felt complete in his arms.

When the ship finally landed, he fulfilled his promise to me. We sought out a septon and were married before the heart tree—before the old gods and the new. Though the country was at war and I couldn't say what would happen in the future with regards to my family, I knew I would be with the man I loved, safe in his arms. There I felt I could face anything that life threw my way. I was his and he was mine, from the day we left King's Landing together, until the end of our days. With him, I was home.

 **-The End-**

 **Guys, thank you so much for favoriting, following, and reviewing! Thank you to my loyal readers. I'm sorry for the abrupt ending, but I'd really dragged this out as long as I had in me to do, and I had to end it. I love this couple, I have been rereading ASOIAF and I really feel that GRRM has a future for them. There's so many hints in the Sansa chapters, so much hidden chemistry. My fingers are crossed for Season 8, and also for Winds of Winter, if George ever releases it! Xoxox to all of you, here's to hoping SanSan becomes a reality!**


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